


On the Threshold of Matrimony

by LikeMeReckless



Series: Threshold Series [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Also fluff in this mad world, Blood and Violence, Bughead teamwork, F/M, FBI agents, Kidnapping, Non-con intentions, Violence, charles isn’t evil, sleuthing bughead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23053129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeMeReckless/pseuds/LikeMeReckless
Summary: When Charles has a string of murders the FBI can’t seem to crack, he calls in the two best investigators and reporters he knows... Betty and Jughead, his own half-siblings. What none of them anticipate is just how dangerous the mystery will become and what type of chaos they will become immersed within.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Series: Threshold Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656625
Comments: 107
Kudos: 114
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m super excited for this investigative tale! I had so much fun writing On the Threshold of Mystery, I decided to continue their story so we can follow our fave sleuthing duo on another big case!
> 
> Many thanks to @jandjsalmon for her editing, advice, and general support!

**Saturday, October 24, 2026**

**Cooper-Jones Townhouse**

**Hoboken, New Jersey**

“Jug, did you eat my last yogurt?” 

Betty’s irritated voice rang out from the kitchen into the living room where he sat, writing on his laptop, feet perched on the coffee table.

“Yeah, Betts,” he droned sarcastically. “I ate that no-taste, active-culture air that you are so fond of while doing downward dog on your yoga mat and rocking your pink leggings.”

Closing the fridge, she glared at him from behind the kitchen island, her sports bra damp with sweat and her normally flouncy ponytail stuck to the back of her neck. Chugging a large gulp of water, she willed her tired muscles to carry her to the living room before plopping down on the ottoman across from him.

“You’re right,” she coughed out, the cold liquid irritating her dry throat. “What was I thinking?”

“Kevin was here earlier dropping off wedding plan proposals,” he suggested to her. “I could see him sneaking a snack for the road.”

“Hmm,” she responded, rolling her neck to help loosen where the muscles were already tightening from the words ‘wedding plans’.

They had been engaged for two years, two months, and seven days. Her mother, Kevin and Ronnie had been nagging them in regards to wedding plans for two years, two months, and six days. It was only six months ago they had finally set a date and Kevin was agitated that she had not yet looked through any of his proposed plans. 

April 8, 2027, would be the big day. She had allowed him to book a venue but hadn’t agreed or looked through much else in regards to plans besides that. It was exhausting and after work, she and Jughead were already done with the concept of researching and planning. He could book it all for all she cared and she would just show up and get to say, “I do.” 

A few times she had even considered elopement, but Alice, FP, Ronnie, and JB had threatened them in regards to that scenario.

While everyone was in a rush to see them happily wed, Betty and Jughead were not in any rush. It had nothing to do with their deep commitment toward each other; that was a given. Rather, they had gotten engaged young, at twenty-two, and both had career aspirations they wanted to fulfill first. Plus, they enjoyed the blissful state of engagement and both dreaded the prospect of dealing with family to plan a wedding.

She could recall now the conversation they had two years ago at a dinner with her mother and Veronica in the city in regards to their long-term engagement.

…..

“So, we have some exciting news to share with you both!” Betty beamed happily at her mother and best friend.

Jughead jittered excitedly in the booth beside her, clearly also bursting with elation.

Alice and Veronica’s eyes glittered and glistened as they leaned forward in anticipation. They had been secretly betting on spring versus fall wedding dates for weeks now and couldn’t wait to see who would score big.

“Juggle and I…,” Betty droned out dramatically, “were hired by The Times and will be renting a townhouse in Hoboken to commute into the city!”

While Betty and Jughead bubbled and grinned, the smile on Alice and Veronica’s lips faded away.

“This is exciting,” Jughead informed them, confused by their change in demeanor. “Why do you two look more poised to go to a funeral than anything right now?”

Veronica cocked a brow at him and drew her lips into a thin, right line to display exactly how unamused she was of his assessment of her demeanor.

“Well,” Alice stayed carefully. “We were hoping that your news was more wedding related than locational. You’ve been engaged for three months now. Don’t you think it’s time you set a date?”

Betty sucked in a deep breath before releasing it slowly. She was used to the third-degree from her mother, but thought maybe, just maybe, at this point in her life she’d be done with trying to guide her choices.

“Mom, Jug and I are only twenty-two,” she pointed out carefully. “We have plenty of time to get married and we aren’t in a rush. We want to explore our careers and the world and then we’ll settle down.”

Alice sighed and rolled her neck, as is Betty’s words were creepy up her spine, tensing the muscles there. Pressing her thumb and forefinger to her forehead, she dipped her head before speaking again.

“Elizabeth, you two have been dating for eight years,” she reasoned. “How much more time could you possibly need?”

“I think what Alice is trying to say,” Veronica emphasized, speaking a bit less bluntly, “is that we are just really excited for you two and can’t wait to celebrate with you. We’ve watched you two lovestruck reporters grow up and fall in love and we just want to see what’s in store for you next.”

Betty’s expression softened as did Jughead’s. It had been a long road to get to that point and they had been through many trials and had survived; a testament to the strength of their relationship. But none of that meant they had to be married at the drop of a hat.

“Listen,” Jughead reasoned. “We understand your excitement.  _ We _ are excited ourselves, but we also know that if we get married this year or next year, it doesn’t matter. We don’t need wedding rings to tell us we’re in this for life.”

At his side, Betty placed her hand in his and gave it a small squeeze. 

“Jug’s right, guys,” she agreed. “We have been given this amazing career opportunity, and even more importantly, we’ve been given it together. They want us to be an investigative reporting team. It’s a dream come true.”

Alice’s expression softened and Veronica’s remained stoic yet anxious. Investigative reporting was a dangerous profession and the thought of her two friends in any form of jeopardy churned her stomach.

“You’re right,” Alice conceded. “You’re absolutely right. And I am so excited for you both. This is a huge opportunity and the fact that you are doing it together only makes it better.”

Rising from her seat, she scooted around the table to offer hugs and congratulations to her daughter and future-son-in-law.

“I always knew you two would do great things,” she added. “New York crime better watch it’s back.”

……

His fingers tapping on her knee pulled her from her reflections.

“There’s been another murder down in D.C.,” he said softly. “Same M.O. as the others. The woman was identified as a twenty-five-year-old school teacher.”

Betty slid herself off of the ottoman and tucked into his side on the sofa, glancing over his arm at the article as he read. 

“ _ FBI official Smith said no official statement regarding the details of the case was able to be issued at this time. Furthermore, Smith refused to comment on whether or not the FBI was now treating the deaths as those of a serial killer. _

_ Over the past five months, five women, all blonde and small in stature, had been found dead throughout the D.C. area. Smith commented that FBI officials are working with local police and the victim’s families to bring the killer, or killers, to justice.” _

Though he finished reading, Betty’s eyes tracked the words, reading through the details again before scooting back further against the back of the couch.

“Poor Charles,” she shuddered. “I hate to say it, Jug, but it does sound like they have a serial killer on the loose. And whoever it is seems skilled. He’s not escalating or periodically killing. He seems to have a set time and type each month.”

Jughead folded the paper and tossed it onto the coffee table, turning a bit to his right to face Betty instead.

“He’s certainly got his hands full, as do we,” he agreed. “It’s been six days since our esteemed city socialite, Milana Vega, has been kidnapped and there’s still no new leads.”

“I talked to Sergeant Villaluz last night,” Betty informed him. “He said that they were looking into her father’s business affairs. So, I did some research and I think that the kidnapping may be related to his current deal with Fulsom Energies.”

Jughead glanced up at the ceiling, perplexed, trying to put the pieces together as to how an energy company could be intertwined in the kidnapping of a New York party girl.

“What’s the connection?” he finally asked her, unable to make a connection.

“Fulsom Energies is not a ‘clean air’ energy-efficient company,” she explained. “There have been protests around the city in regards to providing energy contracts to providers who aren’t on ‘Team Green.’ It’s entirely possible this is a threat to persuade Alexander Vega to back out of the multimillion-dollar contract.”

He nodded, now understanding the connection. Very active community members around the city had been pushing for green energy companies for months. There had been protests around the Burroughs and some had gotten very heated.

“So what’s our next move, Lois Lane?” he teased, his fingers walking their way up her arm to tug on her now dry ponytail. 

“Hmmm, if I’m Lois Lane does that make you Superman?” she asked him skeptically. “Because I’m not sure I’d use that descriptor.”

His other hand left his thigh and traveled to her waist, pulling her from her seat onto his lap to straddle him.

“Really!” he said in a teasing, seductive tone. “I’m pretty sure you thought I was Superman last night after I hoisted you up against the bedroom wall and…”

Her lips covered his to silence him, her hands brushing up his pectorals and coming to rest loosely behind his neck. 

Breaking their kiss, he trailed kisses down her neck and across the skin next to the strap of her sports bra.

“So, we head out in a bit to see if going green is worth kidnapping for?” he confirmed with her.

Nodding, she arched her neck, allowing him better access to the skin exposed there.

“As soon as I get in part two of my Saturday morning workout, Superman, we have a one-o’clock meeting with Mr. Vega.”

Pulling back abruptly, Betty peeled off the tight, black spandex covering her upper half and Jughead wasted no time before his skin was on hers.

“My kryptonite,” he groaned into her newly exposed skin, turning them both sideways and pressing her into the back of the couch, getting a better grip on her hips before standing and lifting them both from their seated position.

Connecting his lips to hers again, he began to walk them to their bedroom.

“Come on, Lane,” he murmured into her lips. “It’s time for me to take you to my fortress of solitude. As the last living Kryptonian, we must ensure my race doesn’t die out.”

“Nerd,” she giggled against his lips, though she allowed him to take her to their room and toss her onto the bed.

Stripping off his t-shirt and crawling over her frame, he proceeded to show her just how super-human he could be when properly motivated.

They were late for their meeting.

.....

  
  


**Wednesday, November 11, 2026**

**New York Times**

**8:46 am**

  
  


**Going Green:**

**New York Business Mogul Falsifies Kidnapping to Halt Multi-Million Dollar Energy Deal**

**By Elizabeth Cooper and Forsythe Jones**

_ New York elitist and Fortune Five Hundred business guru, Alexander Vega, falsified the kidnapping of his twenty-two-year-old socialite daughter, Milana Vega, to curb his multi-million dollar energy deal with Fulsom Energies. _

_ After receiving legal documents from twelve of his business affiliates detailing their plans to cite ties with Vega Industries due to their lack of environmental awareness, Vega attempted to terminate his recently signed contract with the large energy corporation. _

_ When CEO, Walter Fillamen, of Fulsom Energies denied his contract termination, Vega falsified the kidnapping of his daughter, Milana, to draw attention away from his business dealings and draw sympathies from his business counterparts.  _

_ The evidence found at Vega’s Fifth Avenue apartment led police to treat Walter Fillamen and Fulsom Energies as suspects in her disappearance as was Vega’s plan. _

_ New evidence discovered this week led police to the arrest of Vega and his daughter for the waste of NYPD funds, resources, and time. _

_ Alexander and Milan will face a judge in New York City Courts as early as Tuesday for sentencing. _

  
  


…..

As they entered the bullpen, they were met with a loud round of applause from their colleagues and friends. Marcus Travers, their flamboyant, and very supportive, co-worker, was standing atop his desk reading their latest scoop out loud to the rest of the reporters.

“The Jones’ do it again,” Travers hooted from atop his perch, newspaper in one hand and a bagel in the other.

“It’s still Cooper until April, Marcus,” Betty reminded him in a warm, friendly tone, a slight blush on her cheeks more from the use of the surname than the attention they garnered from their article.

“Maybe I’m going with Cooper, Marc,” Jughead suggested. “Between the two of us, she is the better half.”

“Ain’t no lie there, Jug,” Marcus jibed back, laughing as Betty sent an elbow to Jughead’s ribs.

“Well, Cooper-Jones clan,” Cecilia Morris, another investigative journalist in their department, interrupted. “We just want to know how you two did it  _ again _ ? Do you eat? Sleep? Or do you just sleuth until the early morning hours.”

“We are definitely most active late night into early morning hours, however, sleep is definitely not involv-” 

Another jab from Betty silenced him and before anyone could retort, the bullpen doors burst open and no less than seven men-in-black filled the room.

“Ms. Cooper, Mr. Jones,” a dark-haired agent in the front called, immediately flanked by what must be his partner.

“Will Smith, Tommy Lee Jones,” Jughead addressed back, earning him another glare from his fiancé and a tight, thin-lipped glare from the agents.

“You’re going to need to come with us,” the other agent spoke, holding up his FBI badge mid-air.

“If this is about that outstanding parking ticket in front of City Hall, I was going to pay,” Jughead joked again.

“You said you took care of that!” Betty groaned from his side. “You told me weeks ago that you paid online!”

The two agents in the front grew agitated and sighed at their banter. Placing his hand at the handcuffs at his waist, the dark-haired agent moved forward to address them further just as the bullpen doors burst open once again, the familiar face of Charles Smith, also clad in black, entering.

“Put the cuffs down, Martinez,” he smiled, gaze focused on his half-brother and sister. “You’re not Jones’ type.”

A wide, beaming grin broke out across Betty’s face and she surged forward to hug her half-brother who she hadn’t seen since the summer. His promotion in the Bureau to ASAC, Assistant Special Agent in Charge, had left him quite busy as of late.

Hugging her tightly, he stepped back to give a quick embrace and clap on the back to Jughead.

“Charles, it’s  _ so  _ good to see you,” Betty gushed. “What are you doing in New York?”

A dark and stormy cloud came across his features and the weight of the world seemed to settle on his shoulders at that moment. Gone was the grin from seeing his family and instead she could now see the dark circles and lack-of-sleep apparent from his eyes.

“Actually, I need your help,” he admitted. “Help from you both.”

Betty and Jughead exchanged puzzled expressions before locking eyes once again with their half-sibling.

“You really do need to come with us,” he urged.

Exchanging one final glance between each other, Betty and Jughead nodded before following Charles and his entourage out of The Times bullpen and outside to the waiting, unmarked vehicles on the street.

“We can stop at your place quickly,” Charles explained. “Pack enough for at least a week for now. I can’t tell you more until we are secured inside the vehicles, but I can say the situation is dire and I  _ need  _ you two with me on this one.”

They would never deny family and so they silently agreed. Heading down to the car, an agent opened the door and ushered them in. 

Whatever was going on seemed serious. Though worry was written across Betty’s face, her interest, and Jughead’s, was also piqued. 

What mystery awaited them in Washington D.C.?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Charles has a string of murders the FBI can’t seem to crack, he calls in the two best investigators and reporters he knows... Betty and Jughead, his own half-siblings. What none of them anticipate is just how dangerous the mystery will become and what type of chaos they will become immersed within.
> 
> So much thanks to @jandjsalmon!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the story unfolds, I tried to link elements of the mystery to Riverdale storylines and plots for fun! I hope you enjoy this wild ride!

**Wednesday, November 11, 2026**

**FBI Vehicle- New Jersey Turnpike**

**10:17 am**

As promised, they had been driven from the city and back into New Jersey to gather some of their belongings. They still weren’t sure what exactly Charles needed their help with, but on the ride home, they had surmised it had something to do with the series of gruesome murders they knew he was investigating across the D.C. area.

Once they had packed some clothes and personal items, a larger SUV with two others flanking either side met them at the curb. The door opened for them and Charles’ face, still worn and grim, welcomed them into the interior.

The SUV was clearly custom as the two back row seats faced each other. The two, familiar agents who Jughead was still referring to as Tommy Lee and Will Smith, sat up front in the driver and passenger seats, while Charles sat in the seat in the rear, directly behind them facing the vehicle's trunk. Betty and Jughead lumbered into the back, sitting across from him.

Leaning over, Charles slammed the door shut as an agent from another car finished loading their bags into the back.

“I feel like this is one of those movies where we are never heard from again,” Jughead joked, sensing the tension in all of the agents present.

“Hopefully you will be back here, eating falafel off a New York City food cart in no time,” Charles replied. “However, I don’t think it’s going to be that simple.”

“Charles,” Betty said softly, reaching across the empty space to grab his hand. “Is this about the case you’ve been working on? The murders each month across D.C.?”

She didn’t honestly need an answer, the death-like pallor that had drained his normally glowing complexion told her enough, but he nodded in confirmation all the same.

“There are a  _ few _ details we haven’t released to the public yet,” he explained. “Details about the nature of the killings that are far from typical, to say the least.”

“Why us?” Jughead asked. “Why would the FBI allow two reporters access to this information they are trying to keep under wraps, I’m assuming, to prevent mass panic in the D.C. area.”

For the first time since initially seeing them earlier, Charles lifted one side of his lip up in a partial smile.

“That’s exactly what my superiors asked me when I said I wanted to bring you two in as consultants,” he chuckled. “But then they looked at your solve rate, and I explained our family connection and I assured them that if, in the end, you had the main scoop on the story, you wouldn’t release anything before we gave you the okay.”

Charles’ statement was also a question. He took a deep breath and looked between them as if to ask, “Are you in?” Glancing between each other, Jughead laced his fingers with Betty’s before nodding back at his half-brother.

“You know you can trust us, Charles,” he reassured him. “We wouldn’t compromise you or your case just for a lead. That’s not how we operate.”

Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, Charles exhaled, his leg bouncing nervously against the seat of the car. 

“Well then,” he said grimly. “I hope you don’t have a weak stomach because what I’m about to show you isn’t exactly for the faint of heart.”

**Tuesday, November 10, 2026**

**Somewhere near Washington, D.C.**

**10:47 pm**

“My Children,” he called to the gathering before him. Men and women, bowed in prayer, skulls of cattle and goat adorning their heads, sat up as if being pulled by puppet strings. The flames from the torches hung upon the walls flickering off the gray stone and casting shadows around the damp room.

“Our Father. Our God,” they intoned unanimously in response

“The Ides are only days away and I require a new sacrifice from you, my children,” he boomed out over the crowd. “Show your love for me. Your loyalty. And I will reward you with health, and passion, and riches so great they are beyond your wildest fantasy.”

The crowd began to sway at their waists, their bodies creating counter-clockwise circles, arms still outstretched toward the altar, palms upturned towards the heavens.

“We will honor you, Jupiter,” they chanted in uniformity. “We owe you all great praise and thanks.”

Lifting a gilded bowl up to the sky, the man on the altar, clad in white, draped robes, golden vines weaving through his thick, raven hair, held the bowl up to the sky. Turning his back towards the crowd, he held the bowl, more outstretched now, towards a towering effigy of the Roman God, Jupiter.

“Your sacrifice makes us stronger, my children,” he intimated boldly. “Each droplet of blood we spill brings us closer to reuniting, body and spirit, until I once again rise and rule over the mortal realm and find my Juno to stand by my side.”

A chanting of “mmmm” began to hum throughout the room as the worshipers swayed faster, keeping to a steady beat as they moved. Lifting the bowl above his head with his left hand, the figure on the altar began to pray, his right hand raised to his chest.

“May I, Gens Victor, and the entire nation of Nova Roma have what is goodly, auspicious, fruitful, fortunate, and wholesome. It is so!"

“It is so!” came the chorused reply.

“Brother, Andrew. Sister Judith,” he called out to his acolytes, turning to face them. “Jupiter calls on you to secure our sacrifice. Let the fresh blood you bring paint the altar and restore Jupiter and I once more.”

Rising from the floor, Andrew and Judith, also clad in white robes, removed their cattle-bone masks and shed their robes. Clad in all-white undergarments, they maneuvered their way to the altar. Once there, they flanked their leader and turned toward the congregation.

“Bring us honor and glory,” he chanted to them.

“Bring us honor and glory,” the group chanted back.

With the golden bowl in both hands, he poured the crimson liquid upon the pair, thick, red blood flowing down their skin and onto the clean white fabric that covered them sparingly.

“May this blood offering cast out all of your impurities from your substance as from lead to gold. Purify your mind, Purify your body, Purify your heart. It is so."

“It is so,” the group chorused once again.

Placing the golden bowl down in the altar, Victor, who this gathering called ‘Jupiter’, released them from their prayer.

“All may go,” he concluded. “Be here timely on the Ides when we anoint Jupiter with blood and feast in his name. We pray the next soul found is Juno’s so we may be reunited once more. For now, we celebrate our human forms to entice the Gods to reside within once more.”

“In his name,” they called together, before rising and removing their masks. Where they stood, they shed their white garments, bare beneath them, before slowly ascending the stone stairs to a room above the altar space.

Hands on flesh and skin on skin, they united with each other, their lust to satisfy Mars, their God of war, and to help bring victory to their brother and sister in securing their sacrifice for the Ides. 

Victor stood by and watched greedily. He would not engage in the pleasures of flesh until Juno was found.

  
  


**Wednesday, November 11, 2026**

**FBI Vehicle- New Jersey Turnpike**

**10:32 am**

Pulling a stuffed manila folder from his briefcase, Charles passed the documents across the vehicle to Betty and Jughead. 

“Before you look through, let me prepare you for what you will see and what we know so far,” he warned them. “Our perp is, without a doubt, a serial killer at this time, and a skilled one at that. The killing takes place on the fifteenth of each month, or The Ides, as they call it. So far, all the public knows is that the victims have all been women, blonde and attractive. What they haven’t been told is the manner in which the executions have taken place.”

Jughead’s fingers rested on the edge of the folder, eager to delve into the mystery and piece together the tell-tale clues. They itched you pry open the files, but resisted in order to hear what Charles needed them to know, never mind the fact that he was more than a little thrown off by his use of the word ‘execution.’

“The women weren’t strangled or stabbed or killed in any type of typical manner. The killings seem to be of a… ritualistic nature,” Charles shared.

Quirking a brow and frowning, Betty asked, “Ritualistic how?”

Charles began to wring his hands together, his knee once again trembling, shaking the floor of the vehicle in which they rode. He hadn’t ever been one for gore, so this case had certainly stretched his limits.

“The victims had been stripped, their throats cut with what the coroner deemed to be a large serrated knife. Certain… body parts of the victims were removed; the thigh bone on some, ribs on others. Each had a large slice in their abdomen as well, most of their entrails removed. The patterns of bruising and bleeding suggest they had been chained for days prior and the victims were alive during the… incident.”

Between the vivid image he was painting and the motion of the car, Jughead felt as though his stomach was on a Tilt-a-Whirl. The fact that they were all fit and blonde seemed to paint a vivid image that cut a little too close to home for him. He regretted eating that third doughnut for breakfast. Boston creme was not his friend right now.

“Some of their intestines were arranged beside their bodies in a circle, rubbed with what the coroner's report concluded was wine, oil, and… frankincense. Areas of their flesh also had charred bits suggesting some post-mortem burning of organs.”

Seemingly unphased by his descriptors, Betty grabbed the files from Jughead’s hands before glancing up at Charles.

“Frankincense?” she asked quizzically. “Where would someone even get that around here? And if it was imported, wouldn’t there be a record?”

Charles nodded at her astute thoughts in agreement.

“That’s what we assumed as well. A few small apothecary shops in the area have some rare spices, but none carried that. We also didn’t see any reports from customs about it being brought into the country.”

“So our perp is either very clever at underground shopping, a three-thousand-year-old wise man, or was out of the country some time before the killings began and returned with undocumented goods,” Jughead reasoned.

Charles sat back against the seat, resting his back and sighing deeply. 

“There is no DNA evidence, no connection between the victims except that they all booked a Rebu to pick them up the day they disappeared. None of the victims had the same car or drivers pick them up and we haven’t been able to find any link between the drivers either or a breach in their app security. The Ides are approaching in a few days. It’s possible the next victim has already been flagged,” he commiserated. “I need you both to find something we can use here with your uncanny, knack for the weird and abnormal.”

Opening the file folder before her, Betty sucked in a deep breath and spread the files, photos, and accounts across her lap before looking up at Jughead.

“Shall we, partner?” she sang.

Grinning at her morbid excitement to solve this case, he smiled over at her and teased, “Let’s get it on, baby.”

…..

**2:32 pm**

The FBI had dropped them at a prearranged hotel right when they arrived in D.C. Charles had sent them off with the case files and the night off to look through all the information gathered there.

Betty asked him to join them for dinner that evening, but Charles declined, explaining since this case had escalated, his appetite hadn’t been great. 

As they put their clothes in the hotel drawers and their toiletries in the bathroom, a FaceTime message beeped on Betty’s cell phone screen.

“Oh shit,” she huffed under her breath, seeing Kevin’s name on the caller-ID. “We were supposed to meet him for lunch today. Something about flowers or a band? I don’t know.”

Rolling his eyes, Jughead plopped down in the bed next to her, fully prepared to experience the wrath of Kevin Keller, wedding planner extraordinaire.

Sliding the button to the right, Betty took the call and Kevin’s face appeared on the screen.

“Hey Kev,” Betty chirped into the phone. “I’m so sor-”

Her words were cut off by his impatient rant.

“You know who is at lunch by himself right now?” he asked her quizzically. “That’s right. It’s me. I’m eating a burrata plate that was  _ clearly _ not meant for one and the cute waiter probably thinks I’m sad and got stood up. Which I did!”

Betty’s face looked a bit crestfallen at his frustration. She really  _ had  _ meant to meet him today to go over some of his plans. Life just had other expectations.

“Kev, I  _ swear  _ we meant to be there, but we were whisked to D.C. by the FBI,” she tried to explain.

“Unless you and your slacker fiancé are in a ditch somewhere I,” he began before cutting out. “Wait did you say FBI? Are you with Charles? Did he mention me?”

Jughead rolled his eyes as Kevin switched from work-mode to boy-mode in a second flat. He had been pining after Charles for years dispute Betty’s urging that it was never going to happen.

“Yeah, Kev,” Jughead commented. “He showed us his Kevin Keller shrine that he hides in the back of his closet, complete with voodoo dolls and love potions.”

“Oh, Forsythe,” Kevin dragged out. “Your humor just slays me.”

With the case on her mind, Betty had no desire to listen to Kevin and Jughead banter. Through the years, they had developed quite the relationship, most of it centered around mutual torture.

“Kev, I really am sorry, but we kind of had no choice here. Can we go through some of the details over the phone?” she asked sweetly, hoping to soothe his hurt feelings and move things along.

“I  _ suppose,”  _ he sneered into his screen. “You’re acting like an FBI case is more important than your impending nuptials. But, I digress, let’s talk about floral arrangements.”

They had given Kevin a budget early on. To his dismay, they planned on keeping the whole affair small, about one hundred guests, and they didn’t want ‘The Works’, as Kevin put it, when it came to theatrics. Despite his dramatics, they both knew Kevin would plan something tasteful and that was very  _ them. _

“I visited a few florists to get quotes and found one that I think you will love, Betty. She has a romantic yet whimsical style that captures the spirit of Bughead to a tee,” he gushed.

“Bughead?” Jughead mumbled into Betty’s shoulder. “Also, we have a signature style?”

Giving him the eyes, she turned her attention back to Kevin.

“It sounds great, Kevin,” Betty praised. “Thank you for trying to really tailor everything to be simple yet elegant and very much to our tastes. I’d love to see some pictures.”

After twenty-minutes of peonies, green kermits, hyacinths, and hydrangeas, Betty has assured Kevin she liked them all and he should choose whichever fit best with the rest of his vision. 

Since flattery was his main form of currency, Kevin was paid well and in full after their chat. Betty promised to call him on Friday to discuss band options after he met with the final two contenders on Thursday. 

Flipping back on the bed after the screen went black, she groaned heavily and turned to face her fiancé as he fell down beside her.

“We could still elope, you know?” she suggested.

“Sorry, Betts,” he shook his head. “I’m way too afraid of your Mom. What do you say we spend a few hours going through these files, find a fun restaurant for dinner before things here heat up, and then spend the night testing out that jacuzzi tub in the bathroom?”

Turning to her side, Betty placed a quick peck on his lips before ruffling his already messy hair.

“Genius,” she agreed. “This is why I’m marrying you.”

**6:21 pm**

The silver Prius pulled to the side of the residential street as directed by the address on the Rebu App. The driver, and his extra companion, had picked up seventeen other passengers that day, none yet fitting their needs.

The driver, who was double-checking the address listed, was elbowed lightly by the female passenger next to him as the front door of the apartment complex opened and their new passenger stepped out.

Her blonde hair was curled softly and a purple dress with thick gray tights clinging to her small form.

He watched her double-check the license plate as she curiously eyed her ride. The Rebu App noted it would be a silver Prius with a driver named Andrew, but there seemed to already be another passenger in the car.

Sensing her hesitation, Andrew rolled down the window to address her directly.

“Leanna?” he asked, mustering up the most friendly and trustworthy voice he could. “I’m Andrew. This is my sister, Judith. I’m just dropping her off after you and she lives a few blocks down. Hope you don’t mind her jumping in with us.”

The sister line always worked for them. It had not failed yet. He knew the moment she was more settled and less suspicious and that she would climb into the car without a second thought.

As she opened the door handle, Judith allowed a small, victorious smile in Andrew’s direction. 

“Would you like water or any special radio station, Leanna?” Andrew asked her in his most polite tone.

Smiling up at him, she shook her head and buckled her seat belt. 

Putting the car into drive, Andrew headed down the road towards their destination, though it was not the destination she had originally provided.

Distracted by her phone, it wasn’t until blocks past her original stop that Leanna even glanced up. 

“I think you may have passed my stop,” she mentioned, placing her phone back in her bag. “It was a few blocks up.”

At the silence from her driver and his sister, she urged them again to turn around. 

“Can you turn around, Andrew? There’s no shortcut and I can’t be late.”

Once again, he chose to ignore her.

He could tell through the rearview mirror that she was visibly nervous. He imagined that her stomach was beginning to churn and the little hairs on the back of her neck were creeping up the base like electricity through a wire. 

“Stop the car!” she yelled at their silence.

They both allowed a grin to seep across their faces now. This was it. The moment. The energy. The second she realized just how dangerous of a situation she was in.

As her cries escalated in the back of the vehicle, Judith pulled a cloth from her purse. Turning as fast as she could, she reached behind her seat to press the cloth to Leanna’s face, the chemicals worked fast and her cries silenced at once.

**8:57** **pm**

Betty and Jughead had opted for an early dinner at a little Italian place in the heart of the city after spending hours making notes to share with Charles in their meeting the next morning. 

Before dinner, they had explored the area, doing a bit of window shopping, fingers linked with Betty tucked into his side to block the wind that whipped down the alleyways. Now, after gorging themselves on pasta, they had stopped at a pastry shop and taken some cannolis to go, snacking as they walked off their meal. 

“I’m so full,” she whined, huddling into the side of his jacket. “That was amazing.”

“Pappardelle Bolognese should be a national treasure,” he groaned, rubbing at his stomach in agreement about their meal.

Humming lightly, they walked along, debating the various types of pasta that combined seamlessly with a good bolognese sauce until he spotted a billboard on a bus stop advertising for the Amalfi Coast.

“What about here?” he pointed, continuing a little game they played at home in regards to their still unbooked honeymoon. 

“Italy?” she asked in surprise. “I never pegged you for a European adventure kind of guy.”

Shrugging, he tugged her along down the block towards the hotel.

“I mean, gorgeous coastline to photograph, plenty of bolognese, a train ride away from iconic landmarks, romantic candlelight and wine-filled meals, and you on an Italian beach in a bikini,” he summed up. “What about that sounds bad?”

Pinching him at his final reason, she giggled as they pushed through the hotel doors.

“Last week you were hell-bent in Riviera Maya and the week before it was Kauai. They were all nice resorts, but maybe I want to go somewhere with a private pool,” she teased. “No bikini needed.”

He hit the eight on the elevator when the doors opened before quickly pushing the doors-closed button right after. As soon as they were enclosed alone, he had her up against the elevator wall. Their lips crashed together, pressing open at once, tiny nips with soothing swipes in between soft sighs and the need for more.

Too soon, the door dinged open onto the eighth floor. Backing her out of the elevator, his lips never left her own. Bumping into walls and swerving around maid cards, he fished for the key card in his back pocket with one hand as his other hand gripped her ass, pulling her in closer.

Betty ground her hips back against his, her tongue currently taking up residence in his mouth as she explored the ridges and plains of his mouth with her own.

Just as they were about to hit their door, a voice drew them from their haze.

_ “Still?” _ Charles commented from his perch against their door. “You  _ still _ can’t keep your hands off of each other?”

Breaking apart breathless, Betty cursed the air silently, and her brother a bit, before smoothing her hands across her hair and turning towards Charles.

“Hey, we thought you said you couldn’t do dinner,” she noted. “We would have waited for you.”

“I’m afraid I’m not here on a social call,” he rasped. “There’s been another kidnapping.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Charles has a string of murders the FBI can’t seem to crack, he calls in the two best investigators and reporters he knows... Betty and Jughead, his own half-siblings. What none of them anticipate is just how dangerous the mystery will become and what type of chaos they will become immersed within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @jandjsalmon for her editing! There are tiny references to things from the Riverdale series throughout the story involved in the mystery! I hope you enjoy!

**Thursday, November 12, 2026**

**FBI Headquarters**

**7:14 am**

They had gathered in the largest meeting room, Charles up front with his files and presentation ready to go. He had crashed in their hotel room the night before, exhausted by the case and angry that another woman had been abducted from under his nose.

He had filled them in on the new missing person even though they’d be joining the debriefing meeting in the morning. Betty had insisted on ordering him room service, claiming that Jughead was still hungry anyway. After eating and urging him not to drive home, she had tucked him in on the couch with a spare blanket and pillow from the closet.

Even now, semi-rested and fed, he still looked like a shell of himself. Clearing his throat, he called their meeting to order.

“Alright team,” he called out over the chatter. “We need to talk fast, work fast, and think fast. If our killer follows the same pattern, we have about two and a half days to find Leanna Rehms. Our profiler, Emma Mills, is going to share what she has come up with thus far.”

An attractive redhead, about five feet six inches in height, well-manicured and chicly dressed, approached the podium offering Charles a rather flirtatious smile in greeting.

“Okay people,” she called out abruptly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “From the information we have put together already, I came up with a preliminary profile for our new Charles Manson.”

As her heels clacked on the floor, she walked forward, centering herself among the agents. Betty couldn’t help but admire her outfit and polished look. Her pencil skirt and high necked blouse, complete with a side tie, would be something Betty would have in her closet too. Her disposition was another matter. For someone who was the best hope for a missing person, she seemed way to bright-eyed and chipper. Her voice was filled with bubble and bounce while the agents around her were worn and haggard.

“You thinking what I’m thinking about Mary-Fucking-Sunshine up there?” Jughead whispered over her shoulder and into her ear.

Smirking at his description of the agent, Betty reached behind herself to give his hand a squeeze, letting him know she was on the same page, while keeping her eyes still glued to the presenter at the front of the room.

“Our killer seems to have a type; attractive, blonde, with a good figure. He kills at the same time each month as well, the fifteenth. His killings, the slitting of the throat and slicing of the belly, have been called symbolic or ritualistic,” she shared. “But I don’t agree with that assessment based on my experience with these psychopaths.”

“She looks twelve,” Jughead muttered again. “How much expertise can she possibly have?”

“People say the same about us, Jug,” Betty reasoned. “Let’s at least hear her out before we discount her ideas.”

On the screen up front, images from the case began to appear as Agent Mills spoke.

“Our killer is a man in his mid-to-late forties. His clear hatred and disdain towards these victims tells me he went through a terrible break-up, most likely an ugly divorce that involved infidelity, with a woman of similar appearance.”

Flicking the slides again, all six women kidnapped to date were pictured consecutively, displayed so the agents in the room could see the similarities.

“The cuts on the victims,” Mills said, clicking over to a photograph of one of the bodies post-mortem, “show his need to silence the women, which explains the cuts to the throat, and his need to remove a sickness, perhaps adultery, from within them through the cuts on their abdomens.”

Clicking over to the next slide, she displayed another image of a body, her thigh partially burned and bone removed.

“He keeps these trophies because he truly still loves his ex, the woman who drove him to commit these murders. The fifteenth will be significant; a wedding anniversary, the date he caught her infidelity, or perhaps even the date the divorce was finalized.”

The screen went to black as agent Mills finished speaking.

“I suggest we look through divorce records over the past year, especially ones that involved police involvement, restraining orders, or court outbursts during the proceedings. This is how we can narrow down the search for our man,” she concluded.

Smiling again, Agent Mills stepped back to turn the room over to Charles. Offering her a brief and tight grin, he turned to address his agents.

“Does anyone have any questions or comments about the details and direction Agent Mills is suggesting we move in?” Charles asked.

The agents around the room were silent. Light muttering between separate groups left a low hum in the large hall.

“That was the  _ least  _ thorough profile I’ve ever heard,” Jughead whispered to Betty carefully. “She barely dug into anything that we saw in the case files.”

Turning towards her fiancé, the skeptical look on Betty’s face told Jughead she felt the same way. Mills hadn’t even touched any of the more odd details of the case.

“People probably hope this case is as simple as that,” Betty explained. “But I don’t think that’s the case either. I feel it, Juggie.”

Stepping out from behind her, Jughead spoke out above the crowd.

“What do you think the connection to the Rebu App might be?” Jughead blurted. “Does he work in IT? Does he hack into the Rebu profile database? Is the killer a driver himself?”

Simultaneously, heads around the room swerved to look at him. Many seemed interested in hearing a possible theory on the connection. Agent Mills turned slowly to face the room once again, her icy glare cutting right through the agents and hitting Jughead like a dart to a bullseye.

“I don’t think there is a connection at all, Agent…?” she scowled.

“Jughead Jones,” he interjected. “And I’m not an agent.”

Seeing the confusion around the room, Charles stepped forward to introduce them to his crew.

“Jughead Jones and his partner, Betty Cooper,” he explained as Betty gave a little wave to the room, “have come in from New York to help explore the stranger details of the case. They are reporters with The Times and have some expertise with the strange and unusual.”

“You allowed reporters to be privy to our closed session and classified information in regards to this case,” Mills sneered at Charles, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. 

“The Bureau is aware and has approved their involvement in this case,” Charles snapped back. “Not only are they good at what they do, but they would never do anything to compromise this case or Leanna Rehms. I trust them with my life.”

Uncrossing her arms, Mills nodded before swiftly shifting her gaze once again back to Jughead.

“Well then,  _ Jughead,  _ to answer your question I think that seventy percent of the population who are under thirty in this city  _ don’t  _ have a car and use Rebu or public transportation systems. You make it sound like you’ve never navigated a city.”

Jughead’s lip turned up in amusement as did Betty’s beside him. Agent Mills’ smug attitude and combative nature were evident in the dripping tone of her words and her body language as well.

“Actually, Agent Mills, Betty and I use Rebu and public transportation as our means of travel as well, since we are also under thirty and living in a city,” Jughead explained.

“I think what Jughead is alluding to,” Betty piped in, “is that the odds of all the victims taking a Rebu to their destination before their kidnapping is about twelve thousand to one if you factor in other means of transportation around D.C.. He’s not saying you are wrong, just that it may be imperative to Leanna Rehms survival to explore  _ all _ aspects of this case.”

Emma Mills lowered her jaw a bit, though still tense, and refolded her arms across her chest. With her tongue digging into her top molar, she carefully examined the reporters in front of her.

“You say  _ all  _ aspects as if you think my profile was missing more than just a Rebu reference, Miss Cooper,” she spat back. “Tell me, with  _ all  _ your expertise in solving cases, what else do you think we should be looking for?”

Betty’s first instinct was to saunter to the front of the room and tell that little mermaid of an agent that she had an impeccable solve rate, but for Charles’ sake she controlled her emotions. Instead, smiling, a bit more cockily than sweetly, she shared her thoughts.

“Our goal is to find Leanna Rehms safely, Agent Mills,” Betty repeated. “I’m not working against you, I’m working with you. We have precious little time here and some odd details to consider.”

“First off, you painted this as a crime of passion, but there has been nothing passionate about these killings. They have been methodical and done with care. If our killer was in a rage, anger at all, the cuts wouldn’t be smooth, the bodies wouldn’t be positioned just so, and quite frankly there would be more evidence in his haste.”

Jughead dropped a hand onto Betty’s shoulder, a mostly undetectable, but slightly proud grin on his lips. He loved it when she got all worked up in a case. Her ferocity and intensity were just two of the reasons he was so neck-deep in love with her that he couldn’t think straight sometimes.

“Also, are we ignoring the fact that the intestines were rolled in spices and oils and stuffed with frankincense?” Betty asked incredulously. “Ancient civilizations implored frankincense for religious ceremonies and burial rituals. It was used for embalming and had the same worth as gold.”

Completely in her flow now and drawing the attention of everyone in the room, Betty strode forward, shoulders squared and her presence respectable.

“Furthermore, the key active ingredient in frankincense, Boswellic Acid, has recently been found to have a chemical make-up similar to the hormone testosterone,” Betty shared with the agents. “It’s possible if the killer is burning it that he’s, in essence, ‘juicing’ himself and perhaps even more violent and strong than anticipated.”

Impressed whispers filtered throughout the group and Agent Mills seemed as if she was still attempting to formulate a retort. Jughead took this as his opportunity to interject.

“In regards to Rebu again,” he projected. “Maybe we should be investigating the fact that this guy is  _ not  _ working alone. To remove bones, and arrange a burial site as such takes careful work, as does the preparation he takes with the internal organs. With the ritualistic undertones and process, we could be looking at a group here.”

Mills huffed out a laugh that resounded through the high-ceiling hall, echoing off the rafters and back down to the marble floor.

“First, you disagree with my assessment and profile of the killer when  _ I’m  _ the only FBI profiler in the room and then you have the audacity to suggest… what? The occult? A whole cult of killers who eviscerate women on The Ides of the month?” she barked out, her tone unbridled and mocking. “Next you’ll tell us they act out Julius Caesar in the park on weekends.”

“Agent Mills,” Betty said kindly walking forward. “We mean no disrespect. Jughead and I have investigated some weird things in our time and tend to look at things through a different type of lens. We  _ are  _ on the same team and only want to find Leanna Rehms alive and well.”

Mills’ stance and squared shoulders didn’t loosen or budge despite Betty’s attempt to assuage the situation. Stepping between them, Charles put up a hand.

“How about we cover all angles. Mills you lead the team searching through the divorce and history of violence records,” he suggested. “Betty, you and Jughead see what you can dig up in regards to the manner in which the women were killed.”

Rolling her eyes, Mills flung her hands into the air in angry defeat.

“Seriously, Charles,” she snorted. “Where did you find these two? A carnival sideshow?

Without waiting for a response, she headed through the crowd to gather a team together.

Betty swayed her way slowly up to her half-brother who was running his fingers through his golden hair, a new wave of tension settling over his face.

“I’m sorry, Charles,” Betty apologized. “I didn’t mean to get my dander up, but she wasn’t really looking at all of the details quite clearly.”

Charles pursed his lips together and nodded once, a swift, heavy bob that gestured his understanding, as Jughead came up to debrief with them as well.

“No, I know,” Charles sighed. “You’re right. Everyone here is so single-minded and book trained that if a situation arises that can’t be categorized or easily referenced they have no idea how to handle it. That’s why I needed you two involved.”

“Hey, Boss,” an agent called from Charles’ side. “If it’s okay with you, me and Agent DePaolo would like to help these two with whatever ideas they plan on following up with.”

To say Charles was surprised was an understatement, but pleasantly so. Turning to the two agents, now joint them in chat, he settled his shoulders a bit and gave the go-ahead.

“Actually, Josh, that would be amazing,” he said. “Betty, Jughead, I’d like you to meet Josh Garfield and Maria DePaolo. They are both field agents here and damn good ones to boot.”

Shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, Agent Garfield turned excitedly to them.

“We’ve read your articles in The Times,” he confessed. “I was something of a crime buff when I was younger and also read your book on the Blossom murder and the exposès you guys wrote on the Gargoyle King.”

“Not to mention the drug ring you disbanded and this most recent bust on Alexander Vega,” Maria chimed in. 

Clearing his throat and glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot, Josh addressed them once more. 

“We’ve, uh, worked with Mills before and we don’t always see eye to eye on things. She’s a bit one-track-minded if you know what I mean.”

Betty offered him a curt nod in understanding before she opened her purse and dug through its contents, pulling out a small business card holder. Opening the silver case, she handed a card to Agents DePaolo and Garfield before shoving the case back into the depths of her purse again.

“How about Jug and I peruse the files again this afternoon and evening,” she suggested. “We haven’t been immersed in the case as long as you have. Tomorrow we can meet up early and see where we think might be a good place to start narrowing down who this guy really is.”

With contacts exchanged and goodbyes shared, Betty had turned to Charles and insisted he join them for lunch.

“Betty,” he said wearily, “I can’t just…”

“You can,” she demanded. “You are not taking care of yourself. You haven’t eaten, you’re exhausted… how much help will you be on this case when you’re hospitalized?”

Though he may be older, and an Assistant Special Agent in Charge with the FBI, Charles was also intelligent and knew there was no winning an argument with a Cooper woman. 

She knew the moment he conceded. “Fantastic,” she grinned. “We can grab lunch and find a quiet spot by the Potomac maybe to eat and chat about case details. Finish up here and Jug and I will meet you outside.”

The warm sun greeted them as they exited Bureau headquarters. Betty lifted her face up towards the sky to soak it in while she could.

“Ah,” Jughead sighed. “Thank you global warming for sixty-five degree days in November at the expense of our planet.”

“Hmm,” Betty hummed next to him. “I doubt this late-fall warmth will be as attractive to us in fifty years when New York City is about as navigable as Atlantis.”

The smile on Jughead's face quickly changed as if a sudden thought or memory had popped into his head and a lascivious, mischievous grin replaced it instead.

“Speaking of attractive,” he leered. “You were quite impressive back there going toe-to-toe with that bubbly, incompetent, know-it-all.”

After all these years, one would think she’d be used to his praise. He wasn’t shy about showering her with compliments, but she still flushed in excitement each time.

Before she knew his plan, he began slowly backing her up against the wall of the FBI building.

“It was really hot, Betts,” he smirked. “The way you squared your shoulders and how your voice was so stern and factual. I love it when you are the perfect picture of confidence.”

Before Betty could respond, his lips were on hers and her back was against the brick. His tongue swept over her lips aggressively, not asking for permission, but rather demanding it, and she acquiesced. With his thumbs on her cheeks, he splayed his palms out behind her head, effectively anchoring her to himself.

Betty melted against him like a chocolate bar on the equator, letting his hands control the angle of her face and his body support hers. She was a strong, confident woman, but she had developed a longtime praise kink involving Jughead Jones and his compliments made her weak in the knees.

She returned his open-mouthed kisses in earnest and ferocity, forgetting they were in a very public location for a moment. The sound of a door startled them both.

_ “Really?” _ Charles sassed. “I mean,  _ really.  _ You were alone for ten minutes.”

Betty blushed furiously while Jughead shrugged smugly. 

“Look at her,” he reasoned. “How could I resist?”

As they strode down the street to Charles’ favorite local deli for some lunch, none of them saw the flicker of red or the set of piercing blue eyes watching their every move.

…..

**Unknown Location**

**1:47 PM**

Her wrists ached and the cold, hard metal of the cuffs dug into the raw skin around her ankles. Her shoulders felt as if they were on fire, stiff and partially numb. She was freezing. These were the first thoughts to assault her senses as she came to, hours after leaving her apartment to meet some friends for dinner. 

Opening her eyes, she blinked back the pain that was pressing into the front of her head. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious. Allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting in the room, she blinked a few times, dragging her tongue through her mouth to alleviate the dry, cracked feeling there.

After a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes completely to take in her surroundings. The room was gray stone, like the old ruins of churches she had explored on a backpacking trip through Europe. Old fashioned torches lit the chamber in which she stood. 

The pain she had felt came from cuffs linked around both ankles and her wrists. Glancing down she noted that part of the reason she was cold was that she had been stripped to her undergarments, the thought of who had done that unsettling her stomach. 

Turning her head to the side, she expelled the contents of her stomach, mainly acid since she hadn’t eaten since lunch the day prior.

“Don’t worry,” a soft voice called to her from around a stone bend. “It’s just the effect of the drugs wearing off. You’ll feel alright after you eat a bit.”

Wiping her mouth on her bare shoulder, she turned her head to the woman in front of her, Judith.

“I remember you,” she tagged out. “You were in the car with me yesterday. Did he take you, too?”

Cloaked in gray robes, Judith approached her quietly.

“I am his and he is mine,” she sang out ethereally . “We provide for our almighty Father and you… you have been chosen!”

A trail of men and women, also cloaked in gray, entered through the same bend in the chamber that Judith had appeared from, carrying glass decanters of yellow liquids and trays of fruits, cheeses and meats.

“Please,” Leanna cried, pulling at her chains. “Please just let me go. I- I don’t want to be a part of… whatever this is.”

“But you are the most important part!” Judith cried excitedly. “You are the gift for Him. You will restore Him to His almighty glory!”

The other robed figures who entered the room placed down the trays and began to lift the glass decanters from the tops. Carrying them over to the wall, they began to pour the oils over her body, rubbing them into her skin.

“Please,” she cried, tugging and pulling against the bindings on the stone wall. “Please, just let me go!”

The worshippers did not pause in their ministrations. They continued to rub oils as Judith began to chant.

“Father Jupiter and ye summoned Gods, if anything was displeasing to you in the offered gift from, receive Ye this rite of atonement."

As some of the group continued to rub oils, others began to feed each other, delighting in the scene before them. At the sound of a knock, their eyes suddenly left Leanna’s form and glanced towards the door.

Robed in gray, head adorned with his cattle-skull mask, another man entered the room, a large ceremonial knife held above his head.

Smiling at his entrance, Judith began to pray louder.

“Father Jupiter and ye summoned Gods, if anything was displeasing to you in the offered gift from, receive Ye this rite of atonement."

The masked individual came forwards to stand in front of Leanna, Judith bowed at his side, eyes streaming with tears and her smile as radiant as the moon.

Kneeling before her, the man placed the knife at her feet and some of the women immediately began to rub the blade in oils as well.

Placing his hands on Leanna’s shoulders, the man from behind the mask spoke.

“Father Jupiter, ye who guides our hand, please accept this sacrifice made in light. For on The Ides her blood shall paint the altar and you will once again be present on this plain.”

“It is so!” called the voices in chorus.

As the ritual continued, Leanna’s cries became stronger, her tears slowed by the oils and her cries’ intensity swallowed by the thick stone walls.

…..

**11:48 PM**

They had sorted through documents for hours. Tired of the boxed walls of his office, Charles had decided they’d be more productive perusing the files again at the hotel. Ghastly images and findings were scattered throughout the room as they sat on the floor making little headway.

“There’s something missing,” Charles cursed again. “There is something key we aren’t seeing here.”

“But what?” Betty replied softly pinching her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “We’ve read these files over and over again. What are we not seeing?”

Scooting forward behind her, Jughead dropped his hands to her shoulders, working the stiff muscles there and rubbing out the tension. Leaning back into his touch, Betty sighed a silent ‘thanks’ and let his thumbs soothe her headache.

“There is something missing,” Jughead echoed Charles. “These killings are definitely ritualistic, but to which deity are they worshipping? Look at the patterns created with the organs. Each has similarities but are pulled apart.”

Charles groaned and rubbed at his face rapidly his eyes tired and weary from re-examining the gruesome scene.

“Yes, we know,” he explained. “It seems like animals had gotten to the scene before we did.”

“Or…” Jughead suggested. “Someone on scene didn’t want you to see the whole picture. Look at the drag marks by the patterns. They don’t look like they were made by animals to me.”

Leaning forward to look at the images, his eyes softened a bit and his jaw slackened.

“There,” he said to them. “And here again on this one. I see it.  _ Someone  _ altered these, not  _ something _ .”

Jughead nodded as his fingers resumed their work on Betty’s shoulders.

“So you have an agent, or agents, who are part of this,” Betty stated, her voice icy and cold. “Who are pretending to help but are tampering with evidence.”

Stacking the photos back in the folder, Charles was shaking with rage and anticipation.

“You two need to keep this between us for now,” he warned them. “You may have been right this morning, Jug. This may be a group and they may have deeper reaches than we initially thought.”

Charles stuffed the files back into his backpack and lumbered up from the floor.

“So where do we start looking, Jug?” Charles asked as he finished packing up.

Rising up from the floor, Jughead offered a hand to Betty and helped her to her feet as well. 

“Ideally, if we knew who the ritual was for we’d pinpoint clubs, literature groups, chat room usage in the D.C. area centered around that God. In this case, without an exact religion, we look for the most extreme groups, chat leaders, maybe even authors who may have taken their works a bit too far.”

Grabbing Jughead fiercely, Charles pulled him into a tight embrace, yanking Betty into his side as well.

“God, when I met you both I thought you were  _ so  _ odd,” he laughed. “And now I’ve never been more grateful for that.”

Laughing at his sentiment, they returned the hug before stepping back to let him grab his bag.

“Are you sure you don’t want to crash here tonight, Charles? It’s so late,” Betty offered.

Shaking his head, Charles headed towards the door.

“Besides,” he smirked, “if you don’t get your alone time tonight God knows what I’ll find you two doing in my office tomorrow.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Charles has a string of murders the FBI can’t seem to crack, he calls in the two best investigators and reporters he knows... Betty and Jughead, his own half-siblings. What none of them anticipate is just how dangerous the mystery will become and what type of chaos they will become immersed within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the mystery continues! We start to dive deeper into things in this chapter and I’m super excited about it!
> 
> MANY thanks to @jandjsalmon, a wonderful beta and human!

**Friday, November 13, 2026**

**Westin Hotel, Washington D.C**

**6:26 am**

The shrill ring of a cell phone pulled them from a deep and much-needed slumber. Facedown on her pillow, Betty recognized the tone to be hers and reached her arm out blindly, feeling along the nightstand for her cell.

Quickly silencing the offending sound, she swiped the screen open and dragged the phone to her ear.

“Mm-lo?” she mumbled into the speaker.

“Betty?” the familiar voice of Alice Cooper called. “It’s almost six-thirty! Were you still asleep?”

Groaning next to her, Jughead pulled the extra down pillow over his head, Alice’s piercing judgement emanating through the speaker even as Betty pressed it to her ear.

“Mom,” she sighed. “I went to bed late, I’m stressed and I’m running on empty, so yes, I’m still in bed.”

“Hmm,” Alice judged with a hum. “Well, that’s not what I called to talk about. Kevin told Archie, who told Veronica, who told me that you and Jughead are in D.C with Charles on a case.”

Realizing she was not getting any more sleep, Betty rolled over and sat herself up, back propped up against the pillows and feet crossed at the ankles.

“Yeah. We are, Mom. Charles wanted us to consult on a case he’s working on so we came down a few days ago,” she explained.

Alice huffed a frustrated snort into the receiver, causing Betty to pull the phone back from her ear.

“This is  _ so _ like you, Elizabeth,” she clucked. “Did you forget we had plans and an appointment at  _ I Do, Do You? _ to dress shop with Veronica tomorrow?”

Rolling her head back to look up at the ceiling, she mouthed a silent curse at the universe. She had forgotten since they’d gotten wrapped up in this case, and to be honest, it didn’t bother her at all.

“I lost track of the date, Mom,” she confessed. “We’re helping with that series of killings down here and it’s been a bit all-consuming.”

Alice paused, silent on the other side of the line. For a few moments no one spoke. Betty feared that her mother was gearing up to devour her, but her response was surprising.

“Betty,” Alice said softly. “I understand better than anyone what happens when you get wrapped up in a case. But there’s not much time left before your wedding to order a dress and I just don’t want you to have any regrets on your wedding day, sweetheart.”

Jughead was awake now. Pushing himself up from his prone position, he plopped his pillows against the headboard as well and pushed his hair out of his eyes, blinking at the sunlight streaming into the room from their un-closed curtains.

“Mom, I know you mean well,” Betty said soothingly. “But for me, the dress doesn’t matter. Neither do flowers or a venue or a band. With everything I’ve been through, Jug has been my constant. As long as he is there on my wedding day, then I have no regrets.”

First there was a sniffle. Then a snort. Then a full-blown choked sob came from the other end of the line. Shaking her head, Betty wondered how Alice could function with such an emotional range. First she was livid and now she was sobbing.

“Oh, Betty,” she cried into the phone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry, it's just that I love you and you’re so lucky to have found your soulmate.”

“Thanks, Mom. I-”

“Oh! Betty!” Alice shrieked suddenly, her tears somehow dissipating in seconds flat. “I know! Veronica and I will call Kevin about dress shops in D.C. and we will come to you tomorrow!”

Betty’s jaw hit the mattress and her fist curled in on itself as she pursed her lips together. She had just about softened but then Alice had gone and done it again.

“Mom,” she whined. “We’re working! I can’t just take a few hours off to try on wedding dresses!”

As Alice and Betty grappled with one another, Jughead rose from the bed and headed into the bathroom. After using the facilities, he came back out and grabbed a bottle of water and two glasses from the mini-fridge before rifling through Betty’s purse. When he heard a groan and a ‘plop’ of the phone on the bed, he knew Alice had won.

Climbing back in bed, Jughead offered her a glass of water and two Advil along with a smirk.

“So, what time tomorrow should we expect Mama Cooper?” he asked, sure that she didn’t give in and would be heading to D.C.

Betty smiled at him in thanks and popped the pills into her mouth, taking a large gulp of water to wash it all down.

“Around eleven,” she mumbled. “She never takes no for an answer.”

When she put the glass down on the nightstand, Jughead scooted over on the bed across from her, his knees bracketing hers and his hands gripping her wrists.

“What?” she asked at the deep and serious look on his face. “I can get her to-”

“You know I’m the lucky one, right?” he interrupted. “What you said about just needing me and you’d have no regrets...it’s the same for me, Betty. I don’t need a party or a honeymoon. It’s all background noise to me.”

Pulling him forward with the muscles in her forearms, Betty slid her legs out straight as he rose up a bit effectively pushing herself underneath him and stretching out flat, hands traveling up his arms and to his shoulders to pull his lips down to her own.

When it came to love they were never shy. He said, “I love you” openly and frequently, as did Betty. They often talked about their connection and why the other was such an integral part of their life. But often they chose to speak without words. Lips and hands did what vocal cords and language receptors conveyed, their eyes communicating in a silent language with one another.

The nightshirt she wore, his old, ratty t-shirt, was quickly shed and his boxers lost to the bedsheets as well. Gliding his hips over hers, they found a steady rhythm together. Soft groans and slight gasps remained the only sound in the room aside from small sighs of each other’s names and light smacks from close, wet kisses.

After, she lay across his chest, content and warm as he peppered kisses along her shoulder blade.

“Hey, Betty?” he hummed softly. “I know you don’t need the fancy dress and the beautiful bouquet and all, but did you ever stop and think that maybe you deserve it?”

Rolling her head up to face him more, her eyes were large and calm, her expression one of contemplation.

“You should meet your Mom and Ronnie tomorrow,” he urged. “Thinking about this case and these women… I don’t know. Maybe seeing you in a wedding dress, looking all soft and ethereal walking down the aisle might be something we both deserve.”

Stretching up to give him a peck, she settled back down onto his chest. They lay entwined, content until the alarm went off at seven-thirty.

…..

**FBI Headquarters**

**9:12 am**

The FBI bullpen was abuzz with action. Agent Mills, in another impeccable outfit; a high-necked plum dress with golden leaves appliquéd down the front, was barking orders at her team who hovered over files and digital records in one of the breakout rooms. 

With a mouthed “yikes” at each other and a silent thanks that they were not working on her team, Betty and Jughead headed over to a smaller conference room where agents Garfield and DePaolo were already hard at work.

“‘Morning, journalistic lovebirds,” Garfield called at them as they entered the room. As they approached the table, he shuffled over to the door, closing it to block out the noise and any prying ears that may be nearby. Lowering his voice, he informed them of their current status. 

“Charles already filled us in on your late-night discoveries in regards to the crime scene,” he explained. “We called the local PD and asked for them to copy or fax over any photographs they may have from the first victim since they were on scene before the FBI at that point.”

“Their photographs aren’t in the FBI database from when you gathered their original notes when the FBI took over?” Betty questioned, a bit befuddled as to their whereabouts.

DePaolo shook her head and handed Betty a file. “Only the photographs we took that day once we were called in are here and online in our database. The report from the local PD is incomplete as well.”

Jughead scanned the files over Betty’s shoulder as she flipped, stopping her midway through the pages.

“You can see right there where it seems like a part was wiped out. At first glance it looks like a copier glitch or an ink spill during printing, but my gut is telling me it’s deliberate,” Jughead commented.

Garfield and DePaolo scooted around the table to look at his observations. Betty placed the file on the conference table so that it was more visible to all four parties. For a moment, the energy in the room was quiet and still. Garfield’s fist clenched and DePaolo placed a reassuring palm on his forearm.

“This does look tampered with, but it was made to look like an accident,” he agreed, slapping his fist loudly and forcibly down on the table.

“Josh,” she sputtered, pulling at the arm of the dress shirt he wore. 

He tugged his arm out of her grip angrily before running his hand through his hair. As she moved to speak again, he placed a hand out signaling that he needed a minute.

“I’m getting coffee,” he snarled out after a few seconds. “You guys want?”

With silent nods all around, Garfield stormed out of the conference room and over to the coffee bar that was set up nearby.

“Maria?” Betty inquired softly.

“His sister fits the profile,” Maria blurted out. “She lives nearby, five-foot-seven, blonde, and takes public transport. It’s bad enough he’s worried about her, but to think of one of his own…”

Maria trailed off and Betty nodded solemnly, the rest of her statement unspoken and unnecessary as John came back in the room with a tray, four cups, and various sugar and milk packets to mix their own cups.

“I’m sorry,” he lamented softly. “I’ve just worked with so many of these people for so long and to think someone did this…”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Betty reassured him. “Now, let's get to work so we can catch this son-of-a-bitch.”

They spent the next two hours devising a solid plan. Betty and Agent DePaolo would check out a few of the more noted book shops in the D.C area that had frequent groups and meet-ups for those interested in mythology. Jughead and Agent Garfield would create accounts on mythology websites, make contacts and trace IP addresses back to users in D.C. as well.

At first, the idea of splitting up didn’t sit well with Jughead, but Agent Garfield reassured him it was for Betty’s safety.

“Jones,” he gibed, “while you may be quick with words and sarcasm, Maria is quick with her Sig Saucer. I think sending Betty out into the field with her wouldn’t be a terrible idea.”

**…..**

**Anguli Tabernas Bookshop**

**1:34 pm**

They had questioned the shop owners and clerks at four of the six D.C. bookstores that either specialized in the occult or mythology. A few had some customers who were frequent flyers and were willing to provide names for them to contact. Others had pledged that most of their customers were students from a local university doing research papers for their undergraduate degrees.

The bell rang on the door as Betty and Maria pushed their way into the old, quiet shop. The dark, arched wood bookshelves and deep-colored tapestries gave the room a feeling of ancient knowledge; as if the books there somehow held the secrets of the world in their grasp. Fragrant incense burned on the countertop where the clerk looked up from the comic he was reading.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he grinned. “Is there anything I can help you find today?”

The clerk placed down his comic and stood up from his stool. Betty estimated him to be in his late twenties or early thirties based on his clothing and facial features. 

“We came to ask a few questions,” Maria explained, holding her FBI badge out prominently in front of her before tucking it back into the inner pocket of her jacket coat.

For a moment the clerk looked flustered, but that had been similar to the reactions in the previous four shops as well. It wasn’t every day the FBI showed up at your place of work.

“I’m Jared by the way,” he said quickly, extending a hand to shake their own. “Jared Hinkle. I’ve worked here for six years now, Monday through Saturday, from nine to four.”

“Wow, Jared Hinkle,” Maria smiled. “That’s all good information to know. Thank you for being so forthcoming.”

Jared shrugged his shoulders and pulled at his oversized t-shirt, the neck stretched too wide as if stretched out in the wash.

“I watch a lot of TV since it’s quiet here most days,” he explained. “That’s the kind of information they always start with on those cop shows.”

As agent DePaolo questioned Jared regarding his frequent customers, Betty took a look around the store. While the other shops they visited hosted mythology meet-up groups, they all seemed relatively normal in their appearance. This shop, Anguli Tabernam, roughly translated to corner shop, seemed to have more refined and specific tastes. Shelves and shelves of historical texts, mythological texts, and replicas of artifacts filled the musty, rich-colored room. 

Upon her inspection, Betty stopped to examine a large symbol painted on the wall above a stone carving of a man, presumably an ancient deity. It almost looked like the number twenty-four, the partial curve of a two intertwining with the more straight and simple lines of a four.

“It’s the symbol of Jupiter,” Jared said from behind her, causing Betty to jump mile-high, clutching her chest and gasping aloud.

“I’m sorry,” he chortled at her fright. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Agent DePaolo went to the ladies’ room and I thought I’d see if you’d like some water or refreshment.”

Shaking her head at her jumpy behavior, Betty offered Jared a small smile of thanks. Her mind had wandered, due in part to the ambiance in the book store and she had been taken aback by his voice.

“Thank you, Jared, but I’m good,” she explained. “I was just admiring the artwork and relics you have on display here. It all feels very ancient and authentic.”

Standing up a bit taller, Jared grinned widely, satisfied with her praise. 

“We try and distinguish ourselves from other bookshops around the area,” he shared. “It’s the only way to stay in business.”

Pausing a moment and watching the arch in her neck as she studied the painting, Jared took out his cell phone and snapped a photo of her discreetly. Making his way back behind the counter, he sent the message to a contact labeled, “Father,” with a short message.

“ _ FBI in shop. This pure, vision of Juno, was taken by your symbol. She may be the key to reuniting the body and spirit. _ ”

Hitting send, he quickly deleted the entire message thread from his phone before turning to scan the room again. 

Maria had not gone to the restroom. As she perused the rooms in the back of the shop, she found the storeroom to be incompatible with one of a typical, city bookstore. 

Drying herbs and plants hung from the ceiling wrapped in twine and scenting the air. Tiptoeing through the darkened room, she found numerous jars labeled with frankincense, myrrh, and other uncommon spices.

A large, wooden cabinet with odd markings on the wood lay at the far-left corner of the room. Quietly opening the door by its old, iron handles, Maria found a collection of blades and knives, ornate, handles carved similarly to the doors of the cabinet. 

With one last glance around the room, she noted the presence of some robes and headpieces, along with golden chalices and some medieval form of handcuffs.

The items caused electricity to run through her, tingling down her spine. She wondered if Leanna Rehms was bound somewhere in similar shackles, cold and afraid. 

She needed to call for back-up, but first, she needed to get Betty and warn her of the danger within.

As agent DePaolo emerged from the back, Jared saw her eyes dart up towards the front before heading to Betty in the back of the shop. Looking through the video camera monitor under the counter lip, he saw DePaolo lean in to whisper to Betty before flipping open the latch on her holster that secured her gun in place.

“Betty,” she called in a hushed whisper, holding up a finger in silence. “The whole back is filled with herbs and incense, frankincense included. There are also a ton of daggers and blades.”

Eyes wide, Betty glanced up front. 

Jared closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath before reaching into a small canister by the register.

“Jared,” Agent DePaolo said slowly as she approached the counter, gun outstretched in front of her. “Jared, I’m going to need you to put your hands up and behind your head, slowly, and turn to face me.”

Inching his arms up slowly, Jared smiled, thin and mysterious, turning towards them carefully.

“Father Jupiter,” he called up at the ceiling. “I consecrate myself to thee and offer you my life in service. It is so.”

Whipping his hand forward, he popped a blue capsule into his mouth, biting down rapidly.

“No!” Betty yelped, stretching forward and climbing over the counter toward him as Maria grabbed her by the sweater, pulling her back and away from their suspect as his body crumpled and began to convulse on the worn, wooden floor.

  
  


**FBI Headquarters**

**4:17 pm**

The entire room was bustling with sound. Talk of the altercation at Anguli Tabernam had spread like wildfire and agents kept tossing furtive glances Betty and Jughead’s way. 

The fact that they had classified this as a group effort and not a lone, angry serial killer after just a few days of involvement, while Mills had stuck to her profile throughout, had elevated their status with the Bureau and earned them a new level of respect from the field agents involved.

“Alright, listen up!” Charles yelled, climbing on top of a desk so he was visible to the entire room. 

“We have finally made some headway into this case. The storefront, in which the herbs were being ground and blades were stored, is being dusted for fingerprints and DNA as we speak.”

Whoops and hollers along with loud rounds-of-applause rang out around the room as Charles lifted his arms to suppress them.

“That  _ is  _ good news and something to celebrate, but Leanna Rehms is still out there and we have about twenty-four hours left to locate her if the pattern remains the same as before,” Charles urged. “Though the shop clerk wiped his phone before his suicide, we know he sent out at least one text and are working now to recover all his sent messages with his service provider.”

Charles’ paused for a moment, bringing his fingers up to his lips and thought before stealing a giant breath and looking back out at the crowd.

“Our consultants, Betty and Jughead, were correct in their assessment of this case,” he announced, the room once again murmuring and glancing towards Agent Mills who was leaning up against the back wall, arms crossed angrily over her chest.

“This killer did  _ not  _ work alone based on the evidence uncovered today. Code names of at least twenty others were found inside the storeroom,” he informed the agents, prepared for the shock and fear that he saw in their eyes.

“They also seem to be worshipping the Roman God, Jupiter,” he confirmed, clicking a button in his hand and projecting an image of the statue and symbol that was found at the ship. “The ancient Romans often made sacrifices to Jupiter, their main God, on the Ides of the month. Our deceased suspect, Jared Hinkle, had the same symbol tattooed at the base of his neck.”

Scanning the room, he locked eyes with his half-siblings, his gaze lingering on Betty a bit longer than needed, drawing a quick tilt of her head and a quizzical lift of her brow.

“Jughead,” he called. “You seem to have some more background knowledge into this type of scenario. Is there anything you can add at this time?”

Hiking up his pants quickly, Jughead then rubbed at his chin with his hand before heading up towards the front where Charles stood. Though he turned to face the room, he didn’t climb up onto a tabletop to speak. 

“I’m not necessarily an expert in Roman mythology,” he lamented to the group. “I do have a bit of schema in regards to the subject. Jupiter was the main protecting entity of the empire and was lavishly worshipped by all. The nature of the victim is also a little more clear now. Often, the Romans sacrificed dark animals to the Gods of the Underworld, and light animals to the Gods above. The blonde hair is probably significant in this sense since they seem to be praying to Jupiter.”

As he looked around the room he noticed many of the agents taking copious notes as he spoke. It was an odd, but pleasant feeling to be able to help with such an important aspect of their case.

“On the other hand, some aspects don’t follow Roman belief at all,” he hinted. “First and foremost, besides some gladiator matches, the Romans did not partake in human sacrifice, just animal sacrifice. This is where I think there are two distinct possibilities.”

Hopping up on the desk, he sat down to get more comfortable as he talked. Charles still stood above him, hands on his waist as he listened along.

“One possibility is that Agent Mills is correct in her profile in regards to his past marriage. He could have a vendetta and has chosen his sacrifice as such.”

As eyes turned to look at her, Agent Mills pushed up from the wall, straightening herself a bit more before nodding to Jughead, short and curt, but in recognition of his attempt to credit her theory.

“Next, he sees these women as the embodiment of Juno, the wife of Jupiter, and hopes to entice his return,” he theorized. “Juno was also the protector of women, so this could lend itself to providing both ideas to be true.

“The group probably also feasts in celebration after their ritual, possibly consuming parts of the body that have been removed before leaving the corpse to be found. For this they would need a remote location, away from the main hustle and bustle of the city with enough privacy to remain unseen.”

Nodding up at Charles to signal he was finished, he slid off the desk to return to Betty’s side.

“Okay, people,” Charles barked out quickly. “You’ve all been reassigned. Half of you will continue searching court records with Mills and the other half will join the team Garfield and DePaolo are leading, following up on any contacts found within Anguli Taberna this afternoon and looking into the shopkeeper's background. Let’s find Leanna Rehms.”

Immediate shuffles of feet and rifling of papers followed his order as the agents headed to their designated areas to get working. As he climbed off of the table, Charles waved over to Betty and Jughead to meet him in his office.

Slicing their way through the crowds, they found him sitting upright in his chair, nails tapping nervously on his desk.

“Close the door,” he said wearily, the bags under his eyes still prominent and purple.

Closing the door and taking a seat across from him, Betty reached across the table to squeeze his hand.

“What’s wrong, Charles?” she pressed. “Is there something else going on?”

For a moment it looked as if he was going to say something, but his expression changed suddenly as he shook his head and forced out a small laugh.

“No, nothing at all. I just wanted to thank you for your help and let you know I arranged a car to take you back to the city.”

Looks of shock and confusion crossed their faces and Betty and Jughead digested Charles' words. Betty scrunched her face up in disbelief while Jughead sat back, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Charles,” Betty sputtered. “You can’t possibly think we are going to leave now without helping find Leanna Rehms. You need us here with you.”

His leg was anxiously bobbing up and down under his desk, accidentally bumping the top drawer a time or two. He curled his hand into a fist and placed it under his jaw, lips pursed as if he was torn on the matter.

“You can’t fool us, Charles,” Jughead stayed simply. “Not only are we reporters who detect bullshit for a living, but you’re our brother. We know you.”

Sliding a hand out from under his jaw, Charles stretched his arms out across the desk, his head briefly coming to rest on his desk calendar below in defeat.

“Fine,” he conceded. “There’s something I left out of the debriefing partially. Something regarding the shopkeeper’s phone.”

Charles reached into the bottom of his desk drawer and pulled out a clear plastic bag with a photograph inside. Placing it on his desk he slid it across the space for them to examine.

“He tried to wipe this from the phone before everything went down, but he didn’t get to do a permanent delete,” Charles shared. “This is the last text he sent to whoever he was affiliated with moments before you and Agent DePaolo accosted him.”

In the envelope before them was a photograph of his message:

_ “FBI in shop. This pure, vision of Juno, was taken by your symbol. She may be the key to reuniting the body and spirit.” _

“He’s talking about you, Betty,” Charles lamented. “I’m sending you out of the city because I won’t risk you being in that type of danger.”

Tossing the baggy back on the table, Jughead sat up a bit straighter, his jaw tense and his demeanor noticeably stiff.

“You can’t possibly think that, Charles,” she argued. “He already has his victim for this cycle and I’m surrounded by FBI agents! I’m in absolutely no danger while I’m here with you and you’re crazy if you think I’m leaving.”

She glanced over at Jughead for his backup and was surprised to receive none. He was silent and still as stone in his seat.

“Jug,” she sighed. “You can’t possibly agree with him on this.”

Jughead gnawed at his lip for a moment before leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees and press his hands together tightly.

“Betts,” he breathed out in a long, worried breath. “The Black Hood, the Gargoyle King, The Farm, the drug rings, and mafia…. sometimes I wonder, not if, but  _ when  _ our luck will run out. You’re a target here, Betty, and I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you.”

Betty’s expression softened and she reached forward to grasp his hands in her own, leaning into his personal space.

“Jughead, I’m not going anywhere,” she reassured him. “I’m safe with you and Charles, DePaolo, and Garfield. You know they need us here and that we are probably the best shot at Leanna Rehms making it out of this alive. We swore to do our best to help people, Jug.”

After a moment's pause, he nodded in agreement, knowing that what she spoke was the truth.

“Charles, can you spare an agent tomorrow to shadow Betty,” Jughead asked before turning to look at her. “We’ll stay and help, but  _ you _ are staying away from this investigation and are going dress shopping with your Mom and Ronnie, an agent at your side.”

Betty nodded as Charles let out a bemoaned, deflated sound.

“Mom is in town?” he bleated, horrified look on his face. “Could this week get any worse?”

As he spoke, the door to his office was flung open by none other than Agent Garfield. 

“Hey, Boss,” he called, looking a bit green. “The police finally sent over their original photographs from the scene of the first victim. You’re going to want to see this.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Charles has a string of murders the FBI can’t seem to crack, he calls in the two best investigators and reporters he knows... Betty and Jughead, his own half-siblings. What none of them anticipate is just how dangerous the mystery will become and what type of chaos they will become immersed within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the action starts to ramp up from here on out, friends! 
> 
> There have been a few little nods to Riverdale so far- cult involvement for The Farm and animal bone masks for the Gargoyle King. I’m super excited to share the rest of this!
> 
> Thanks to those of you who subscribe, read, and comment. Your encouragement is very appreciated!
> 
> Thanks so much to @jandjsalmon, the most wonderful beta!
> 
> Follow me for fic updates and recs on Tumblr @likemereckless

**Saturday, November 14, 2026**

**FBI Headquarters**

**10:58 am**

The rest of the prior day had been spent pouring over the initial crime scene photos the local PD had sent over and digging through the files from Anguli Tabernas to look for possible accomplices.

The initial photographs from the local police were vastly different from the ones taken when the FBI arrived on scene and each time after. 

In each of these, the intestines had been arranged into a circle with the symbol of Jupiter displayed prominently inside. When compared to the FBI photos from the rest of the scenes, it was clear someone had tinkered with the crime scene and tampered with that evidence. Each FBI photo held enough similarity with the originals to prove they had all started out in the same position.

While the fingerprinting at the shop had gone well, the number of fingerprints found that needed to be analyzed ensured there was no way to have that information back prior to midnight.

With the victims' time of death falling somewhere between midnight and five in the morning, they were running out of time to locate Leanna Rehms safely.

Now, sitting at a wooden table with Charles and Agent Garfield, Agent DePaolo, and Agent Mills, Jughead tossed the files in front of him before flopping back in his chair.

“This is useless,” he muttered. “We are not going to find Leanna sitting in the FBI building perusing contacts and court documents.”

Charles laid his paper down as well. Rubbing his hands over his face, he took a deep, calming breath and exhaled slowly.

To Jughead’s left, Agent Mills sneered and rolled her eyes his way.

“And what’s your plan, Forsythe?” she mocked. “Should we just go play hide-and-seek around the entirety of Washington DC and hope we see her or someone dressed as a Roman God?”

“Enough!” Charles groaned out. “We are all frustrated here, but we need a lead before we run off into the wild blue yonder looking for a needle in a haystack.”

In a flash, Jughead sat up, rifling through the files for the list of names from the bookshop they had been cross-referencing.

“What if we don’t need to search the entire haystack?” he suggested. “Just hear me out. The location or locations these people have been using needs to be large enough for a ritual and inconspicuous enough not to be seen. What if we start by checking out the residences of the people on this list who  _ aren’t  _ in apartments or condos and have the privacy a cult like this would need to function?”

Tapping a pencil against the desk, Charles chewed on his lip in contemplation.

“Charles,” Jughead begged. “Just send me and Garfield. At least it’s a lead. A stab in the dark, but better than wasting hours sitting here.”

“Wait,” Mills said quickly. “I could use a break and some field time after days of this. I’ll go with him. He’s right. It’s at least a try.”

Nodding in concession, Charles grabbed his coffee mug, one with a Pop’s logo that Betty had sent him after he moved to D.C. and was feeling a little alone. 

“Fine, go and do what you can,” he agreed. “But keep me informed of your whereabouts. I don’t need any other problems today.”

Agent Mills rose quickly before turning back to Jughead. 

“I just need to make a personal call before we leave,” she explained, heading into her office and closing the door behind her.

She feigned grabbing a tissue as she bent and pulled a spare phone from her purse, hitting a pre-set speed dial contact at once.

“Victor,” she whispered discreetly. “You don’t have much time. Your location and that of tonight's ceremony remain safe, but Heron House is compromised. You must tell them to clear out as fast as possible.”

A deep voice came from the other side of the line.

“Thank you, my child,” he praised. “You have done well. Jared has finally found her. My Juno. We will be reunited tonight. Keep them busy.”

With a single click, the line was silent again. Replacing the phone in a concealed pocket of her bag, Mills took a deep breath before exiting her office to head out on a manhunt.

…..

  
  


**Elegant Bridal**

**10:37 am**

The room was so white it was almost sterile. White couches, carpets, and even the paint in the walls had some shade from white to cream. Betty felt a bit like a patient at a mental hospital she had once interviewed for a story.

This wasn’t exactly how she imagined picking a dress. She had an entire entourage with her at this posh boutique and an FBI agent stationed outside thanks to Charles’ paranoia regarding her safety.

Kevin and Veronica had both used their connections in the wedding and fashion industries to have this particular establishment closed to everyone but them. Upon entry, they had been escorted to a large private room where fruit trays, finger sandwiches, bottles of water, and glasses of champagne were waiting. 

Alice was flowing with excitement and Veronica, and Kevin who took the trip down to DC as well, were pleased with their efforts. Betty assumed  _ they _ were enjoying themselves drinking and snacking while she was being groped by an old Italian woman named Nina.

The minute they had walked in the door, Nina had been on her like white on rice. She had even offered to help her in the bathroom.

“So, what styles are we thinking?” Nina had asked Betty as she had sat with her friends.

Betty shook her head back and forth slowly and offered a slight shoulder shrug. 

“Um, a dress style? I don’t really know?” Betty replied regretfully.

Nina’s face was stern and disbelieving. “You mean you no research styles before you come to boutique?” she called out, appalled.

Sensing the woman’s agitation, Veronica put a hand up towards Nina and stood.

“I think we  _ should _ try on one of each style just to be sure, but I’m pretty sure we are looking at either A-line, Sheath, or Mermaid. I love B but she will totally stumble in a Trumpet design and she is definitely not the princess Ball Gown type.”

Alice jumped up behind Veronica as well with a few thoughts of her own.

“And I think something with a nice sheer back with appliqué or no back at all would be nice since Betty has amazing bone structure and keeps so fit.”

Betty stood off to the side in horror as her friends plotted to dress her in what she could only assume would be an unnecessary number of gowns.

“I love the sheer concept with lace appliqué,” Kevin clapped. “And we definitely want to look into straps, either thin or maybe also lace and sheer because Betty has a decent rack to hold up and we don’t want any Janet Jackson moments as she walks down the aisle.”

“KEVIN!” Betty yelled out in horror, bringing her hands up to cover herself.

“Oh, Betty,” Alice rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a prude. You’ve got big boobs! Don’t worry, we will find a dress that holds you in but also showcases the girls.”

Betty was beet red at this point and wishing she was in the FBI bullpen looking at morbid case photos with Jughead.

“This is my worst nightmare,” she mumbled to herself as Nina went to pick out some gowns to begin with.

“What was that, Betty?” Kevin grinned, obviously using today as partial payback for ditching him for lunch.

Betty mumbled a few more choice words as Nina reappeared and flagged her into a curtained dressing room on the other side of the couches.

This was how Betty had found herself in this position.

“I can get the gown on myself, Nina,” she had smiled sweetly, attempting to get her off her back.

“No, I help you,” Nina grunted out. “Store policy. Now strip and we find you perfect dress.”

Betty felt awkward standing around in her underwear as Nina slipped the first dress up her legs, pulled it over her hips, and then tugged it over her chest. Slipping her arms into the straps, she gasped for breath as Nina stood behind her and tugged the sample dress, which was a few sizes too large, tight around her body like a corset. Applying clips to the back to hold it in place, Nina gave her a quick once over before reaching forward and tucking Betty’s chest more securely in the gown.

“I can really…” Betty began to say but never finished as Nina’s fingers were deftly lifting, moving and arranging her in the dress top.

“Oh please, doll,” Nina sighed. “You don’t have nothing we don’t all have. Now, we show your friends.”

Betty took a quick look at herself in the mirror before she headed back out into their private area. It felt odd to be wearing something so intricate and dressy instead of her usual, more streamlined, work attire. This first style definitely wasn’t for her, but she knew she had to show everyone or they would just make her put it back on again.

The clips in the back were so tight she could barely breathe. Stepping down from the pedestal they had her on carefully, she pulled back the curtains and greeted her waiting audience.

“Oh. My. God.” Kevin gushed, lifting a hand to his mouth. “You are seriously perfect bride material and it kills me you aren’t more serious about all of this.”

“Betty,” Alice choked out misty-eyed. “Look at my baby in a wedding gown…”

Veronica also had a soft look on her face as she gave Betty a once over before signaling her to spin around. As Betty turned, Veronica nodded appreciatively.

“Why do you think, B?” she prompted. “Do you like the cut?”

“Honestly?” Betty replied. “I feel a bit like Jersey Shore mermaid covered in all the gaudy beading and bottom poof.”

Veronica wrinkled her nose in agreement. 

“I don’t think this design is very… you,” she agreed. “But the cut? I mean, damn girl, that ass. Jones isn’t going to know where to look all night and will probably be counting down until he can rip that fabric right off.”

“V!” Betty yelled, part laughing and partly appalled, dragging her eyes towards her mother.

“Oh, Betty,” Alice remarked. “Please, you think I don’t know about Jughead’s propensity for disrobing you? You forget we  _ all _ lived together senior year and you two were like animals in captivity during their heat.”

The half jaw-drop and half-grin on Kevin’s face was almost meme-worthy and Veronica high-fived Alice as she tossed her head back and laughed from deep down in her belly. Alice, as always, remained polished and put together.

“Right,” Betty deflected. “I’m going to get this giant ball of satin off my body and try something else.”

The next hour passed in a much similar way. Betty had tried on mermaid and trumpet, A-line and ballgown, backless and sheath, and empire and giant organza before they had narrowed down the cuts that were most flattering on her.

As they tried on dress after dress, Betty had become fonder of Nina who seemed to pity Betty and the band of critics she had brought along with her. After modeling four more A-line gowns and six more mermaid ones that her friends and family had picked for her, Betty headed back to the dressing room once again.

“Ay, yai yai,” Nina grumbled. “I see why you no excited. They make anyone crazy.”

Betty giggled and offered Nina a small smile.

“They are a bit much,” she agreed. “But they do love me.”

Nina took the clips off the back of Betty’s dress so she could slip out of it, but instead of handing her the next gown, she handed her a robe.

“I’m going to take them to look through our new, ‘exclusive’, book of gowns,” she explained. “Spend some time alone looking at the racks. Think of your fiancé. Think about your style. See which dress pick you because in end… only you and him matter on your wedding day, yes?”

Betty bit her lip and nodded, appreciation shining in her eyes, as Nina left to escort her mother and friends away.

“Okay people,” she heard her yell. “Come with me. Very important. Very VIP.”

When the room was silent, Betty left the dressing room, the sash of the silk robe tied tightly around her waist. Of all the styles they tried on today, none seemed quite  _ right. _ She hadn’t wanted to come shopping, but now that she was here and envisioning things, she did want that moment where he saw her again, as if anew, gliding down the aisle. 

She imagined his shoulders would straighten but his jaw would drop open just the slightest bit, a soft expression like the one she remembered from the afternoon he climbed through her window and changed her life for good. She could see his slack jaw closing and a half-grin appearing next and she knew she’d be smiling a thousand-watt smile back, thanking the makeup gods for her waterproof mascara.

As Betty ruminated on all this she walked the room, fingers brushing against the gowns that hung around her as if the right one might shock her and give her a sign.

The dresses everyone else had picked for her didn’t define the love she shared with Jughead. They were flashy or gaudy, revealing or ostentatious. Betty and Jughead were none of those things. They were straight as an arrow when it came to business, but alone together, their love was soft.

No one knew that Jughead Jones, ex-Southside Serpent, would draw her a bath after a tough interview or week. Or that sometimes he’d braid her hair while she soaked and pin it up so it would fall in soft waves after. No one else read the tiny poems or quotes from novels Betty would occasionally slip between the pages of a book he was reading or leave on his pillow when she was following up late on a lead and not home in time for bed.

Some nights, when they lay together, they’d speak not a word, and make love so soft that she’d fight the urge to cry. 

Romantic. That was the word she had been struggling to find. Their love was deep and romantic and the stuff of novels. It was rare and most people would never experience it, but they did. 

Betty passed near a rack of lace gowns and her finger paused on one she had not yet tried on today. Lifting the hanger off the bar, she pulled it out and hung it on a hook alone to examine the detail. 

The top layer was sheer with delicate lace detail all throughout. Small, shoulder cap sleeves led into a plunging neckline that would be flattering, but not show off everything so blatantly. The lace details cascaded down the body which slowly puffed out in a puffy, but not over-puffy way, leaving a thin, sheer layer of fabric and lace draping down the back to fan around her when she stood.

Her heart beat a bit faster at the thought of Jughead seeing her in this and she took it to the dressing room, hoping it would look the way she envisioned it would on her.

As if she had a sixth sense, Nina reappeared in time to clasp her into the dress and readjust her goods once more. Placing her hands on Betty’s shoulders, Nina watched her look herself over wistfully and smile.

“Now, child,” she grinned. “That is a wedding dress. Come. Let’s show the peanut gallery.”

The moment Betty entered the room, her friends, a mother, fell silent. For the first time since they had arrived, Betty was smiling and walking straight. Climbing up onto the pedestal in front of the mirror, she did a little twirl for them all, showing off the sheer back and design.

“Oh, Betty,” Alice gushed as Betty nodded back.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I think this is the one.”

Betty never thought she’d be a misty-eyed bride, but today was destroying many of her preconceived notions about herself and weddings. 

“Betty,” Kevin sighed. “You’re a vision. Truly. Jughead won’t take his eyes off of you all night.”

“Oh please, Kevin,” Veronica interjected. “He never takes his eyes off her now. He’s not going to be able to breathe when he sees you in this.”

Betty turned once more towards the mirror and smoothed her hands down the fabric before turning back to Nina and her crew.

“This is the one,” she smiled. “This is my wedding dress.”

Veronica and Kevin lifted their champagne to cheers and Alice, now crying, moved to embrace Betty.

“I give you a few minutes while I write up order,” Nina said. “I send it to our store in New York so you no have to drive back down here for fitting.”

Heading to the front desk to write up the order, she ushered the others to follow her, too.

Before she changed, Betty snuck one last glance at herself in the mirror before slipping back into her jeans and sweater. Jughead had been right. They did deserve this.

…..

**18 Blue Grass Circle**

**Arlington, VA**

**12:47 pm**

They had visited nine of the twelve houses on the list that met their original criteria. They were close to DC, or in the city itself, more residential, and had enough space not to draw attention.

“Okay,” Jughead said. “This one belongs to a Peter Ryan, age 34, works for an accounting firm in D.C.”

Raising her brows, Mills smiled briefly. “Let’s pay Mr. Ryan a visit, shall we?”

Exiting the standard-issue FBI vehicle, they climbed the porch steps and Jughead pushed the doorbell, just as anxiously as he had done at the last nine houses. With his hands in his pockets, he bounced on the balls of his feet as Agent Mills glanced through the windows. 

After a few moments without an answer, Jughead raised his hand to knock instead, for good measure, in case the bell was broken. When his knuckles met the wood, instead of a knock, the door pushed in, left open and unlocked.

Mills signaled for him to wait a moment as she unholstered her weapon, shouldering the door and entering the premise quietly. Scanning the first floor, the house looked ransacked. Books, papers, and knickknacks littered the floor and furniture had been haphazardly moved. 

Following her lead, Jughead trailed her across the first floor, pausing for a moment when some familiar symbols caught his eye. Tugging a photograph from the book, he had only a moment to glance at the face before a squeaking floorboard behind him cause him to turn swiftly. A flash of blonde caught his eyes before a swift blow cracked him across the skull. He began to fall, his fingers swiping the photograph back inside the book and the entire world went black.

“Is he dead?” the assailant still holding the pipe asked Mills.

Bending down to check his pulse, she shook her head before standing again.

“He’s alive, just out cold. Now,” she said hesitantly, “you need to hit me.”

“What?” he said dumbfounded. “Why would I-”

“Victor needs me on the inside,” she explained. “I can’t walk away unscathed or without you to turn in without drawing suspicion. They already suspect a mole.”

Closing her eyes, she braced for the blow. 

“Not as hard as him,” she winced as the pipe struck down.

Jughead woke first. Reaching back behind his skull, he felt a wet patch and pushed back the urge to vomit. Tilting his head to the right, he saw Mills sprayed out on the floor next to him.

Carefully, he pushed himself to his knees and wobbled his way over to her side. Shaking her shoulder weekly, his vision slowly clearing, he tried to stir her awake.

“Mills,” he urged. “Mills wake up.”

Jughead’s motor skills were still shaky as he pushed his way up from the floor as Mills stirred beside him.

Pulling out his cell phone, he hit Charles’ contact, mumbling his whereabouts before collapsing again on a nearby chair.

…..

**Unknown Location**

**1:27 pm**

Victor paced the stone halls, biting the fingernail on his thumb as the altercation with Mills was laid out.

“Did he see anything?” he questioned his follower.

Shaking his head, he moved closer into the room. “No, Mills said we were in the clear. I had to knock her out as well to make sure she didn’t look involved.”

Victor nodded and hummed in agreement, pouring himself a glass of wine, taking a sip as he gazed out the window onto the sprawling property outside.

“Does she have the envelope to plant?” he asked expectantly, receiving just a nod in the affirmative from James in return.

“Collect the group, James,” he ordered. “Tell them that the safe houses outside are no longer safe and that from now on this refuge is the only place we gather. The ceremony will still commence tonight, but it is time we made our presence known.”

…..

  
  


**18 Blue Grass Circle**

**Arlington, VA**

**1:35 pm**

  
  


As the FBI searched and fingerprinted the house, Jughead and Mills sat outside as the EMT’s treated their lacerations. 

“Is there anything at all you remember about the assailant or anything else in the house from before you got hit?” Charles asked.

“Ouch!” Mills yelled as the paramedic wiped iodine across her cut. “Watch it! I’m not a corpse that you’re practicing on.”

As the flustered EMT profusely apologized, she lifted Mills’ hair and shifted the collar of her high-necked blouse to clean up the blood that oozed down from her gash.

“Hey!” Mills screeched, yanking herself away from the girl and pointing at the top of her head. “My wound is up here, not down there. If I wanted a sponge bath I’d find some loser sap to oblige me. Now stitch me up.”

The flash was only a second, but the site triggered Jughead’s memory like a movie montage. For the briefest of seconds, he noticed black ink at the base of her neck, the edges curved, much like a two and a four, and identical to the one on the assailant from before.

Keeping his cool, Jughead looked up at Charles and shrugged.

“Sorry,” he grimaced. “It’s all a bit fuzzy to me.”

In the next glance, Jughead tossed Charles a look; a serious, knowing look that, if they didn’t know each other so well, may not have meant anything, but Charles could read between the lines.

“Come on, Jug,” Charles lamented. “We better go call Betty and I better beg for her forgiveness for letting you get knocked out.”

Jughead offered Charles a half-wince half-grin as he hopped off the ambulance seat.

“Big, bad, FBI agent afraid of petite half-sister,” he joked. “Makes for a good headline.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Jughead grabbed Charles by the elbow and led him to an even more private space on the property.

“That tattoo Jared Hinkle had, the wonky twenty-four that symbolized Jupiter. The guy who hit me had one as well,” he explained.

“Why couldn’t you tell me that back there?” Charles asked puzzled.

Jughead passed, realizing what he was about to say couldn’t be taken lightly, before stacking his hands on his hips and taking a firm stance.

“Because,” he said low. “I’m pretty sure Mills has the same one.”

Charles’ expression went from blank to piercing in the span of a moment. He resisted the urge to look over at her. She was smart and sly and would certainly figure things out.

“How sure are you?” Charles asked cautiously.

“I’d stake my life on it,” Jughead bet. “She always has a high collar blouse or dress on and her hair is always down. Either she role-plays in the Victorian Era or she’s hiding something. You saw how she reacted just now when the EMT touched her.”

Charles bit at his lip, his hands-on-hips stance matching Jughead’s now as his foot played with a rock on the grass. Giving one last curt nod at Jug, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed Agent Garfield.

“Josh,” he said secretly. “I need you to listen to what I’m about to say and I need you to tell no one but DePaolo.”

As Charles explained what needed to be done, Jughead took a seat on a nearby boulder, carefully placed as lawn decor in this picture-perfect neighborhood. He touched the bandages at the back of his head and inhaled a breath at the sting on contact.

“Alright,” Charles muttered as he took a seat next to him. “They are moving in now. If you’re right, she’s been playing us this whole time.”

The half-brothers fell quiet for a time, Charles sick from this revelation and Jughead sick from his blow to the head. Sometimes silence could be cathartic. With the impending Ides approaching, no further lead on Leanna Rehms, they had both had begun to stomach the reality that she may not be found.

A squawk and static came through a moment later on Charles walkie-talkie.

“ASAC Smith, Sir,” Garfield’s voice scratched out. “We’ve got her in custody. The tattoo is there. Mills has been leading us astray.”

Placing the device down next to him, Charles dropped his head down to his knees, his body shaking in released tension and anger as Jughead placed a hand on his back. Sitting up rapidly, Charles picked up the walkie-talkie again before throwing it across the lawn forcefully, his face red and fierce.

“Boss!” another agent yelled, running across the lawn to get to him. “Boss!”

“What now?” Charles swore. “What fucking else, now?”

Out of breath, the agent stopped before him, holding out an envelope with the symbol of Jupiter drawn across the front in red.

“This was slipped onto the hood of your car,” he panted out. “We searched the area but found no one. You need to see this and we need to move fast.”

Opening the envelope with trembling fingers, Charles pulled out a few photographs from the manila paper.

Agent Fields on her cell phone. The front of a bridal shop. Betty in the shop window with Alice. Betty with Agent Fields.

At the back of the pile was a cryptic note written in the same red ink.

_ Agent Smith, _

_ It’s time you know our truth and power. Jupiter rises, regaining former glory and ruling over all. You cannot stop our sacrifice, but you have caused us a loss of one of our own. Thus, an eye-for-an-eye, we take double from you. _

_ They lie where the great Roman landmarks can be seen. Little time they have as the earth begins to crush and seep, their breath suppressed. Tread fast and they will live. Think slow and they will die. In their wooden boxes they wait. May Juno, protector of women, take pity on their souls. _

“Charles?” Jughead said worried at the look on his face. “Charles?”

Handing him the photographs, he all but collapsed over, hands braced on his knees stopping his fall.

“It’s Betty and the agent who was guarding her,” Charles cried. “They have them and they are buried alive.”

Sorting through the photographs, Jughead’s fingers began to shake, the pain in his head forgotten. 

“Betty,” he quivered as the photos fell to the ground.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Charles has a string of murders the FBI can’t seem to crack, he calls in the two best investigators and reporters he knows... Betty and Jughead, his own half-siblings. What none of them anticipate is just how dangerous the mystery will become and what type of chaos they will become immersed within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m super excited to share chapter 6 with you all! I’m sorry for the cliffhanger- I had a few unhappy messages about that! I didn’t make you wait too long, though! Things start to get a bit darker in 6 and 7 and tags are being added so just be aware!  
> Thanks to the best beta anyone could ask for, @jandjsalmon. Find me on tumblr for updates at recs @likemereckless!

**Unknown Location**

**November 14, 2026**

**6:32 pm**

This was how it ended. That’s all Leanna Rehms could think as she stood, still shackled to the stone wall. Without light shining through, she was unsure how long it had been since she had left for work. Days? A week? Time seemed to be endless here.

Wherever she was, she knew it wasn’t for anything good. Her deranged kidnappers fed her and provided water, but they also oiled her up and chanted as if she were an animal for slaughter. 

Leanna wasn’t a stupid woman. She knew that her end was coming, and coming soon. Morbidly, she just hoped it was quick. She’d read the news before she’d been taken and had known that she fit the profile but had used Rebu anyway. You never think it’s going to happen to you. 

A scraping sound on the stone pulled her from her thoughts. The man and woman she’d come to know as Judith and Andrew approached her, this time sans oils or trays of food.

As Andrew wrapped his hands around the chains attached to her, Judith unhooked the cuffs anchoring her wrists and ankles to the wall and floor. With the chains still securely in his hands, Andrew began to tug her from the room as Judith walked behind slowly.

“Where are you taking me?” Leanna asked quietly. When no response came, she prodded again. “Please. Where are you taking me? Just let me go! I won’t tell anyone, I promise!”

Her captors still remained silent. Leanna began to panic. A few moments before she had been imaging an easy death, but now her fight or flight instinct had kicked in. Struggling against the chains, she began to pull back from Andrew, wringing her limbs left and right to try and free herself from his grasp.

“Let me go!” she screamed wildly, yanking the chains as hard as she could. She saw the chains slip momentarily from Andrew’s grip and knew she had an opportunity to run before her. With her right foot forward, she motioned to make a break down the long hallway in front of her. As her left foot moved in front of her right, a cloth covered her face and everything went dark.

The first thing Leanna noticed upon waking was that she was warm. Her mouth felt like cotton and her head felt full. Blinking her eyes a few times to adjust to the light, she found herself in a pool of warm water, sunken into the stone floor of another chamber. Her wrists were once again fastened in a set of cuffs inlaid into the stone at the pool’s edge.

The room, lit by torch light, seemed empty, save her for the moment. Glancing down at her body, she realized she was naked, the white undergarments they had provided her before nowhere in sight. She pulled at the metal cuffs around her wrists, hoping for a break in the stone or a loose link.

As she tugged and pulled, her wrists became raw and red, but to no avail. The clasps were tightly fastened and securely placed. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw shadows of figures approaching. A group of her captors, two men and three women, approached the pool covered in white robes with trays of various items in their hands.

One of the women began to scatter fragrant floral leaves and spices into the water as the others set their trays with oils, lotions and spices down beside the pool’s side.

Stripping down, they slipped into the water with Leanna, her heart rate climbing rapidly as she scooted back as far as she could against the stone and tucked her knees up against her chest.

“Don’t be afraid, child,” one of the women spoke. “You are just being cleansed for Him...made free of impurities for His presence.”

The woman’s hands fell on Leanna’s knees as she pried Leanna out of the ball she had curled into. Instinctually, Leanna began to scream, kicking and thrashing against the woman. One of the men approached from the other side, some form of tube grasped between his finger tips. Grabbing her roughly by the chin, he turned her head to the side before pricking the side of her neck with a needle.

If she thought she felt warm before, she felt ten times that now. Beneath her, she felt her muscles relax. Cognitively, she was very aware, but physically she was not in control of her limbs.

Approaching again, the woman tugged her forward, this time her body putting up no resistance. Floating her on her back to the water’s surface, Leanna felt the cool air of the chamber on the top of her skin. The others came closer, and one of the men poured a decanter of clear liquid over her body. Moments later their hands were on her, rubbing the soaps and oils in, chanting in a terrifying mantra.

“For you, our Lord, we prepare her. We give her up to you so that you may breathe again.”

Tears slipped from the edges of her eyes as jar after jar and oil after oil were applied to her skin. She felt exposed and humiliated and was once again hoping that death took her quickly and without her having to suffer any indignities.

As they finished their work, the men and women in the tub parted into two rows, leaving a clear center up the middle of the water towards her. A man she had not yet seen entered the room, also cloaked in white but with a golden headpiece adorning his scalp.

Climbing into the water, he smiled softly and did not shed his robe, the look on his face leaving her more terrified than before. It was crazy and calm all at once. 

“Hello, Leanna,” he spoke softly. “I know you cannot answer me right now, but that is not important. Just know that you are  _ so  _ important to us and to the fate of the world. Tonight, we thank you for your sacrifice so that I once again can be one step closer to being whole.”

Beginning at her toes, he ran his hands up her body, stopping to place his palm upon her forehead. The two other men in the water began to climb out of the tub and unfastened her shackles, pulling her from the pool and carrying her body to a stone pillar nearby.

The robed man began to wash himself in the waters now, cleaning his hands and his face, before exiting as well, his dripping robes flowing behind him.

From a tray, he grabbed a tube of red, fragrant powder. With this middle and forefinger, he swiped some of the powder up and made a long, curved line against her belly and another on her neck.

“It is so,” he spoke.

“It is so,” the other repeated.

When he was finished, he bowed and left, the two men flanking him on either side. The women left in the room began to dress Leanna in new, white undergarments and a white robe before refastening her wrist and ankle cuffs, leaving her cold and immobile in the dark room.

…..

**Elegant Bridal**

**1:17 pm**

They had finished the dress shopping process with a final champagne toast delivered directly to them in the waiting area. 

“One final toast to celebrate finding the perfect dress?” the woman beamed. “It’s tradition here and it’s good luck!”

Veronica grabbed at the glasses, passing them around the group diligently.

“Well, we can’t have any bad luck for our bride, now can we,” she agreed. “To my bestie, I’m so happy you found your soulmate and your perfect forever.”

“And I’m so proud of you, Betty,” Alice added. “To many years of health and happiness. I can’t believe you are actually getting married.”

“To making it to your wedding without getting knocked up first,” Kevin added, as Alice slapped him on the side of the head.

“What?” he yelped. “You know how they are. It really is a miracle!”

Rolling her eyes, Betty couldn’t help but grin back as she swallowed the glass in one large gulp, happy to be surrounded by her insane, but dedicated loved ones.

…..

  
  


**FBI Headquarters**

**3:36pm**

Before they left the suspect’s home, Alice had been frantic on the phone.

“Jughead,” she cried, panicked into the receiver.

“I know, Alice,” he worried back. “Charles and I are already looking for her.”

With a deep shuddering breath, Alice broke down on the other side of the line.

“She was just in a wedding dress, smiling and happy and we toasted to your future,” she cried. “The next thing I knew we were all waking up on the floor and Betty was gone.”

Jughead pulled the receiver away from his ear for a moment, all of it too much to take. He needed to remain strong and focused in order to find Betty. After taking a moment to collect himself, he turned back to the phone.

“Alice,” he said forcefully. “Alice, stay with me. The shop has to have cameras installed. Get the video feed from the shop owners and get down here as fast as you can. We need to be smart and we need to move fast.”

She was quiet on the other side of the line as she processed his words, harsh breaths panting through the connection like static.

“I’m going to find her,” he promised. “And I’m going to kill them all.”

“I know you will, Jughead,” Alice replied calmly. “And I’m going to help you.”

Clicking the end button, he stuffed his phone back in his pocket before turning back to Charles, DePaolo, and Garfield. 

“Alice is getting camera footage from the bridal shop,” he explained. “It sounds like someone drugged their champagne. This was all very premeditated and not spur of the moment.”

Charles had been pacing the office, wearing the veneer off the already worn, wooden floorboards, one hand glued to his belt loop and his thumb on the other planted firmly between his teeth as he bit at his finger in thought.

“Good,” he replied. “Good, that’s a start. Anything we find or discuss that isn’t necessary in finding Betty and Agent Fields stays between us four in this room. I don’t know who to trust at this point.”

Jughead crossed the room and gripped at Charles’ shoulder firmly, his look still worried but also determined. 

“Charles,” he reassured him. “We are going to find them both and bring them home.”

Charles nodded before pulling his now raw thumb from between his teeth.

“I wish I had your conviction, Jug,” he sighed. “We just haven’t made much headway until recently with this case and I’m terrified that I’ll walk into a field tonight and…”

“No,” Jughead stamped, putting his foot down and keeping his own fears at bay. “We won’t. I know it and I feel it. Me and Betty? Our story isn’t over yet.”

Garfield and DePaolo glanced around the room, averting their eyes a bit as if they were intruding on a private moment between family.

After what seemed like hours but was really only a few minutes, Charles’ body sagged and his posture loosened, his composure returning and his FBI instincts taking over.

“Mills,” he blurted out. “We need to talk to Mills and see if we can squeeze anything out of her.”

DePaolo rose up from her chair motioned for Garfield to join her.

“How about we go wait for your mother to bring the tape and try and ID the perp,” she suggested. “You two interrogate Mills. Normally I’d say to do it the other way in case she gets snarky and you lose your temper, but for all I care you can punch that bitch right in the face as much as you want.”

When Maria and Josh left the office, Jughead and Charles began to formulate their plan.

“I’d say we go in good cop, bad cop,” Charles explained, “but she knows the roles. I think it’s best if you play up your understanding of her ‘beliefs’ and I just play the worried brother card.”

They settled in agreement before crossing the main floor of the FBI bullpen. Eyes of all the agents working tirelessly to locate Leanna, Agent Fields, and Betty following them like wallpaper in a haunted house.

Mills had been cuffed in an interrogation room since their arrival back at headquarters. Though she should have been uncomfortable and shaken, she sat perfectly upright, the slightest smirk still in place on her lips.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” she grinned at them both. “Is it time to rough me up? Tell me my options?”

“Actually,” Charles said smoothly, somehow retaining his calm demeanor. “We just want to talk.”

Mills’ half-grin widened and she sat up even straighter if possible.

“Good cop routine, Charles?” she mocked. “Please. Give me more credit than that.”

Charles and Jughead took seats across from her, pouring each of them a glass of water before speaking.

“This isn’t a routine, Mills,” Charles explained. “This is a worried brother, boss, and fiancé trying to find two women who don’t deserve to be butchered.”

Jughead winced at the use of the word.  _ Butchered. _ He knew Charles was playing up to Mills’ mental status and current state, but the word left him feeling as if he’d been sliced open as well.

“And what makes you think that I’m going to help you now?” she laughed. “After all, I’ve done my job well in misleading you so far.”

Charles opened his mouth to speak but Jughead jumped in before he could.

“This kidnapping goes against the pattern,” he explained. “Your people are getting sloppy. There was surveillance at the bridal shop they took Betty from and the other agent doesn’t even fit your normal victim description. Your leader has gone off script and is unpredictable. The question is why, and are you going to let them all get caught?”

“We can help you, Mills,” Charles added. “You know what happens to FBI agents in federal prisons and  _ plenty  _ of prisoners  _ will  _ recognize you.”

Mills faltered for a moment for the first time since they entered the room. Her leg bounced, just a few times, and she licked her lips slowly as if she knew she was stuck.

“I don’t like Betty,” Mills said. “Or Agent Fields for that matter. But you’re right.  _ She _ isn’t the right one for Jupiter’s worship. She isn’t worthy at all.”

Charles let out a deep breath and reached into a Manila folder for the bagged letter that was left on his windshield.

“I’m assuming you put this on my car,” he stated simply. “Now where do we find them?”

Picking up the baggie, Mills read the first line aloud.

_ “‘ _ They lie where the great Roman landmarks can be seen’. Think hard, Jughead. She’s obviously not in Rome, so where is your maybe-soon-to-be-wife?”

Jughead wracked his brain for ideas. There were no statues of Roman Gods around D.C. that he knew of or could find, though there were some Greek tributes around the city. Roman Gods. Roman gladiators. The Colosseum. Columns.

His mind froze as he pictured The Colosseum, Il Vittoriano, and the Pantheon. 

“The Capitol Building,” he breathed out, eyes wide with realization. “They are somewhere within view of the Capitol Building. The architecture is clearly of Roman influence.”

Mills knocked twice on the table. 

“Two-hundred points for Jones,” she joked. “So, now all you need to pinpoint is where exactly they would be.”

“Upper Senate Park,” Charles huffed out, already standing from his chair. “There's a tree covering there and the fact that there was a Roman Senate and this overlooks Roman architecture would probably be significant to them.”

“Bingo!” Mills giggled out as if this was all a giant game of hide and seek to her. “Find the dig spot and find the girls.”

Leaping from his seat and knocking another over in the process, Jughead darted out of the office with Charles, eager and desperate to get on the road immediately.

“What?” Mills yelled after them. “No thank you?”

“Upper Senate Park!” Charles yelled at the room. “That’s where they are! Sirens on, pedal to the metal. Two of our own are out there!”

…..

**Upper Senate Park**

**5:42 pm**

No less than twenty FBI sedans pulled up to the entrance of Upper Senate Park, effectively closing down the area and relocating park visitors. 

Charles stood at the edge of the fountain and called out to the agents gathered there.

“Alright, listen up! Team A, you will search the right side of the park with me. Team B, you will follow Agents Garfield and DePaolo and fan out on the left. Remember, check the covered and tree-lines areas first. They obviously didn’t bury them in the light of day in the middle of an open field. Any suspicions or findings, radio me at once.”

Agents armed with shovels, oxygen, and dogs began to fan out over the park. Charles nodded to Jughead as if to ask, “You good?” With a quick dip of his head in reply, he set off to the right, heading towards the tree-covered paths.

The agents searching were trained and careful, watching their steps and looking for evidence along the way. Jughead was frantic. He ran through the grounds, swerving in and out between trees, looking for any signs of disturbed ground. 

It had been a dry fall thus far which proved to be helpful since most of the grass patches were not marked with mud. This would make spotting a place that was dug up much easier.

“Betty!” he called out feverishly, his chest expanding rapidly while his lungs gasped for air as he ran at warp speed. “Betty!”

The park seemed to grow as it stretched out in front of him. He might as well be lost in Yellowstone National Park for how daunting and large of a task this felt. Kicking cinnamon and goldenrod leaves to scour the ground as he went, he felt a familiar prickle of fear rising up the back of his neck. 

He would find her. He had to. This couldn’t be the way It ended for Betty. She deserved their wedding and a honeymoon, to be carried over the threshold and to have babies. They needed to get old enough to argue over whether it was his turn for whole milk or her turn for one percent that week. 

He stopped mid-run, folding over in half. He wasn’t sure if it was from exhaustion or the emotional breakdown he was trying to keep at bay. With his hands on his knees, he looked up once more, determined to continue on his path, when he heard, “Boss! Hey Boss! Over here!” from the left side of the park.

Jughead’s head snapped towards the sound and he saw agents from all over scrambling towards the other side of the field. Breaking into a sprint again, he charged across the grass with Olympic speed, passing agents on either side as he elbowed them out of his way. 

Pushing through the group gathered, he could see two, six-foot spaces with fresh dirt packed on top of them. Dropping to his knees, he frantically began to upturn the earth, pulling away the soil as fast as he could. 

“Jones,” an agent he recognized from the last few days said. “The guys with shovels will be here any second.”

“Betty may not have a second!” he bellowed in anger, his hands caked with mud and his clothes covered now as well.

He felt a body flop next to him and realized Garfield had plunged down to help him dig up the adjacent grave. Moments later, Charles and the agents with shovels arrived and Jughead felt himself being pulled back from the dig site.

“Let them dig, Jughead,” Charles urged him. “Let them get to her faster.”

Jughead rubbed a hand across his face, smearing dirt on his cheek, but he couldn’t care less. His heart was beating out of his chest so loudly that he thought all of D.C. could hear its tympanic rhythm.

Finally, and simultaneously, both shovels collided with something solid, a soft ‘thunk’ breaking through the silence of the trees.

Charles and Jughead charged up front and dropped down next to one of the wooden boxes uncovered and Garfield knelt next to the other. With crowbars in hand, they began to pry the lid off the boxes. 

Charles and Jughead’s popped off first only to reveal a grim sight. Agent Fields was buried there, but she wasn’t alive, nor did it appear that she had ever been alive in that coffin. Her body had suffered multiple stab wounds and looked as if she’d been gone for hours, rigor mortis already set in.

Jughead’s heart plummeted into his stomach and he scrambled around on his knees to the other side where Garfield was still trying to maneuver the lid of the second coffin as Charles stood by, dumbfounded. Prying his hands away, he hooked his crowbar underneath and began to rip away at the wood.

“Betty!” he cried out. “Oh, God, Betty!”

A cracking and splintering sound filled the air as the lid of the box came free. Tossing the top aside, Jughead paused in silence alongside everyone, staring into the depths of the container. They stood stunned, their chests deflating in defeat as the pent up adrenaline ran through their systems, leaving their bodies humming and numb.

The box below was empty minus a few small trinkets.

Betty’s ID, her small B+J charm necklace, and her engagement ring.

…..

  
  


**Unknown Location**

**3:57 pm**

Betty groaned as she pushed herself up, confused for a moment as to how she wound up prone. Her mouth felt thick and her eyes blinked open slowly, registering the dim, torch light around her and jumping with a start.

She wasn’t in the bridal shop. The room around her was a stone chamber, with high arches and no electricity that she could see. Her shoulders, which ached, were pulled back by her movement as she realized that she was cuffed to a large plush bed in the center of the room.

Glancing down she noticed that at some point she had been changed. A silky, golden slip hung from thin straps on her shoulders and down to her knees. For a brief moment she felt sick; sick that someone had handled her while she was incapacitated, but she pushed that aside and returned to her investigation of the room.

She surmised that the champagne had been drugged. Instantly, she began to worry. Was her mother here also? Veronica? Kevin? She quickly shook off that thought as she knew she was the only one who fit the profile.

She fit the profile. The idea tumbled around in her stomach like an avalanche down a hill. There was no use in panicking, she told herself. She’d been the one investigating kidnappings her whole life and she knew a calm, cool demeanor would be the only chance she had at survival.

Giving another tug at the cuffs against the headboard, she edged the side of her hair along her arm, hoping to shake out a Bobby Pin. Moments that seemed like hours passed as the tiny, metal clasp slipped more and more from her hair before finally falling to the bed.

Betty slipped herself down towards the comforter, the angle pulling at the muscles in her shoulders painfully, before grasping at the pin with her teeth. Rising back up, she pushed herself onto her knees and scooted up the bed towards the headboard. Using the hairpin held securely between her lips, she jabbed it into the keyhole on her shackles and began to twist it back and forth.

A slow clap interrupted her efforts.

“Brilliant,” he said, as she stood in the doorway smiling and admiring her. “I knew when I saw you, as did Jared, that  _ you,  _ you were special.”

Betty’s first instinct was to scoot back as far as she could and guard the pin, her only chance at escape, with her life. Quickly realizing how foolish that was, she loosened her posture and dropped the pin to the bed.

With a serious gaze, she took in the man standing before her. He was tall and fit, about six-foot-one, with full, dark black hair. He was probably in his early to mid-forties and was classically handsome and outwardly charismatic. She could see why he was in charge.

As she finished her appraisal of him, she noticed the two other men standing guard by the door. There was no way to make a run for it when she was this outnumbered.

“Who are you?” Betty asked as he strode forward, sitting on the edge of the bed near her.

The man smiled warmly, almost affectionately, at her and reached forward to tuck a strand of hair pulled down by the Bobby pin back behind her ear.

“My sweet Juno,” he cooed. “I know you don’t remember me clearly now, but in time you will.”

Betty had always been an A student and a quick thinker. If this man, who was clearly important, believed her to be his Juno, then he must think himself to be Jupiter.

“Jupiter?” she swooned. “Is it really you?”

She watched as her captor’s eyes lit up and his breathing quickened. Stroking his hand down her cheek, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger before nodding softly.

“It is, my love,” he answered. “I have waited centuries to be reunited with you again. Tonight, together, we celebrate The Ides. After the blood of the sacrifice is spilled, we wed and once again rejoin our spirits and bodies on this earthly plane.”

Leaning forward, he uncuffed Betty and she quickly pulled her wrists into her chest and rubbed at where the cuffs had chafed her. Delicately, he grasped her wrists himself and began to smooth out the raw marks.

“You are free to move about your chambers, my love,” he explained. “But you will still have guards at hand to watch you. The vessel you have chosen may take over from time to time, attempting to escape or hurt us.”

“I understand,” Betty answered firmly. “Thank you for your kindness.”

With a final smile and sigh, Victor leaned in again to place a soft, sweet kiss against her lips before pulling back chastely.

“I will be back tonight before The Ides,” he promised. “Until then, you rest.”

Betty knew if she was locked in a room that she would never find a way to escape. Thinking fast, she offered one final plea.

“Wait!” she cried out. “I- I want to help. Tonight with the ritual and to prepare for it as well.”

Victor looked pleased. He stood up from the bed and bowed slightly towards her. 

“As you wish, my love,” he agreed. “Someone will come to get you when it is time.”

Victor and his guards exited the room and left her alone once again. Angrily, she scrubbed at her lips erasing his presence before glancing down at her left hand as thoughts of Jughead filtered through her mind. Her ring was gone. The finger she had come to stare at often was naked and barren.

“Jug,” she choked out quietly into the room. “I’m coming home to you, Jug. I’m coming home.”

  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Charles has a string of murders the FBI can’t seem to crack, he calls in the two best investigators and reporters he knows... Betty and Jughead, his own half-siblings. What none of them anticipate is just how dangerous the mystery will become and what type of chaos they will become immersed within.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last two chapters! A few little nods to Riverdale were weaved into the storyline!  
> The cult was a little nod to the farm, the animals masks for the Gargoyle King, the stone building and burial alive were tiny nods to Stonewall Prep! I thought it would be fun to weave little connections in as I went! 
> 
> This chapter gets violent, guys. If you are not a fan of reading violence, turn back now!
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this story and as always I’d love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Thanks to the best beta, @jandjsalmon.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr: @likemereckless

**Unknown Location**

**November 14, 2026**

**9:22 pm**

Victor returned to her room late in the evening. Betty had spent hours pacing the floors, checking the locks and trying to formulate a plan. As far as she could tell, the room was inescapable, and after she had come to that realization Betty had spent the remainder of her time alone formulating an escape plan.

Tonight she would be ‘wed.’ Just that morning she had been so excited for the concept of marriage and now the thought left her sick to her stomach, her heart plunging into a deep pit of despair. When Victor had kissed her earlier, though innocent and mild, she felt the urge to regurgitate the finger sandwiches from the bridal shop earlier. She was conscious of the face that she would not survive a wedding night with him and whatever Roman fantasy he had been envisioning for who knows how many years.

Thinking through her options again, Betty was startled from her thoughts by the door to her chamber opening, Victor and two women entering the room.

“You look more rested, my love,” he cooed sweetly, a soft smile on his lips. “I’m glad. You will need your strength tonight for all we have planned. It is most exciting indeed.”

Betty squared her shoulders and forced a smile onto her face. Rising from the bed she moved to greet him.

“I am most excited for the ceremonies, Jupiter,” she exulted in an exaggerated manner. “I have always felt as if something were missing. As if I weren’t whole. Now I know why.”

He strode across the room to her promptly, pulling her into his chest softly in an embrace.

“Fear not, my love,” he spoke. “Soon all will be well again.”

He ran his hands up her spine and across her shoulders, leaving his hands resting on the sides of her neck. With his thumbs, he gently tilted her head up towards his before lowering his lips to hers once more.

While less chaste than earlier, at least this kiss wasn’t overly intrusive. Betty kept her lips sealed closed tightly as his slid and skirted across her own. After only moments he pulled away with a soft sigh.

“I cannot wait until tonight, my love,” he groaned. “Normally The Ideas are not suitable for weddings, but I have waited a long time for you and thus have touched no other in your absence. I am pure for you. I know you were not graced with the same knowledge as I, so now you will cleanse and pray and the Gods will restore your chastity upon you for our holy union tonight.”

Sliding his hands back down her neck, Victor pulled the thin spaghetti straps of her gown slowly down her shoulders, letting the slip cascade down her length and to the floor.

_ “It’s just like being in a bikini,”  _ Betty thought to herself, trying not to cringe at his touch.

From her shoulders, his hands tread down her neck to her stomach and then to her waist. His left hand took up residence on her hip and his right came up to play with her collarbone.

“Sarafina and Aurelia will take you to bathe and dress in your wedding robes,” he explained. “I will not look upon you again until you are prepared.”

With one last glance at her form, he dropped his hands and retreated from the room. Betty released a breath she had been holding and willed her body not to shake in front of these women and give her away, but she could not stop all the tremors completely.

“He is overwhelming,” Sarafina said approaching, linking her right arm with Betty’s left. “Just standing in his presence makes me tremble as well. I’m sure he will be gentle, Juno. You are so blessed.”

Aurelia stepped forward and linked her arm as well on Betty’s other side, leading her from the chambers.

“We are your Pronubras, or Matrons of Honor as you might say,” Sarafina explained. “We will guide you through the rituals tonight and prepare you as needed.”

Entering a large, arched room with a sunken pool, the women encouraged Betty to step into the water to cleanse. Two armed men who stood inside the room nodded to her maids and moved into the hallway space.

“We will be right outside should you need us,” they reassured them.

Aurelia turned her attention from the guards back to Betty.

“Normally we undress to enter the sacred pool, but you and Jupiter are already God-like,” Aurelia explained. “Plus, he would not enjoy you being viewed by any other members who may walk in to cleanse at any time without his presence.”

Betty was happy to remain partially clothed and entered the water that was surprisingly warm. She decided to use this time to befriend these women to learn as much about the night as possible. Her chances of an escape would be slim and she needed as much information as possible.

“Ladies,” she said sweetly. “I don’t want to disappoint my dear Jupiter tonight. Can you talk me through the evening?”

Sarafina looked positively radiant that Betty wanted to interact with her. Clearly she truly believed that Betty was some Roman deity and that it was an honor to be in her presence. Betty would use that to her advantage.

“May I join you in the water?” Sarafina asked politely. “I would feel better being cleansed before discussing ritual details.”

“I completely understand,” Betty chirped, opening her arms in welcome as Sarafina climbed in beside her and sat on one of the stone ledges provided.

“Alright,” Sarafina grinned. “Tonight will be different than our normal ritual. On The Ides, we must offer up a sacrifice to Jupiter. Normally we celebrate The Ides ritual, but tonight will be a hybrid that our pater, the priest, has cultivated instead.

As she spoke, Sarafina took a nearby sponge and drips of fragrant oils and began to cleanse her skin. Betty began to copy her actions, wanting to seem believable in her efforts to please Jupiter.

“Since your mother isn’t here to walk you in, Aurelia and I will do that as your pronubras,” she explained. “We will join your hands with Jupiter’s, you will kiss, and then you two will offer up our usual Ides sacrifice in honor of your marriage.”

Betty swallowed hard and bit her tongue so as not to cry out. There was no way on earth that she would be sacrificing another human tonight. The thought made her stomach churn.

“Then the pater, our priest, will offer up the wedding contract for witnesses to sign,” Sarafina continued as if the sacrifice was no big deal. “Normally there is a breakfast after, but since this is taking place tonight, we will all bite a symbolic piece of bread as a nod to the tradition.”

How they could eat after watching another human get disemboweled was beyond Betty. Perhaps these people were more crazy than she thought.

“Next, our congregation will reenact the seizure of Sabine,” she shared matter of factly.

“I’m not familiar with that,” Betty said in confusion. “What does that have to do with the wedding ceremony?”

Sarafina lifted a jar from a tray and scattered some fragrant flower petals into the water. Placing the jar back on the ledge, she offered Betty a small decanter with another scented oil which she took gratefully, cleansing herself with the sweet-smelling liquid.

“The seizure of Sabine was a story from Roman mythology where the men of Rome raided the cities of surrounding areas and kidnapped their women,” she explained. “It’s often referred to as the rape of Sabine. In Roman culture, it is part of the wedding ceremony.”

A pit grew in the depths of Betty’s stomach. How deranged was this woman to be sharing this with her with not a trace of fear or disgust?

“What- what will happen then?” Betty asked carefully.

“Nothing bad,” Sarafina smiled. “We aren’t barbarians!”

Betty begged to differ since they planned to eviscerate a woman at the wedding ceremony, but held her tongue.

“Tonight, Aurelia and I will hold your arms as Jupiter tries to pry you away from us,” she explained. “The rest of the congregation will yell vulgarities and such. It’s all in good fun.”

Clearing her throat and attempting to keep a smile on her face, Betty ran a sponge up and over her shoulders, turning her head momentarily to hide her shock.

“Sounds like fun,” she replied. It also sounded like her best chance to escape was at that point when they would all think she was acting. She filed that away for later.

“Next we will light torches and toss walnuts as you and Jupiter walk together, praying for your fertility,” she explained. “While singing the Fescennine verses, Jupiter will carry you over garlands and flowers where Aurelia and I will once again meet you for the most wonderful part.”

Betty was sure that nothing she had to share would be wonderful, but every tidbit of information would be needed in order to make it out of this alive and semi-unscathed.

“We will lead you to the ceremonial bed and undress you,” Sarafina smiled. “And there, before all the Gods and our congregation, your groom will attend to you and consummate the marriage, leaving you a matrona, or woman of the house.”

Betty’s skin was crawling and all color drained from her face. There was no instance or way in hell she would ever willingly consent to this scenario and if she had to, she would die trying to avoid that fate. The only marriage she was ‘consummating’ would be the one between herself and Jughead.

“Thank you, Sarafina,” Betty trembled. “You’ve been most informative.”

Looking pleased and self-satisfied with the compliment, Sarafina smiled and offered Betty more scented oils and lotions, the resistance of her pool mate unbeknownst to her.

…..

**FBI Headquarters**

**8:36pm**

Reeling from the loss of Agent Fields and the absence of Betty at the burial site, they had gotten the forensic team set up at Upper Senate Park before taking half the agents present back to FBI Headquarters.

Jughead burst through the doors with Charles on his heels, his jaw tight and face snarled, and stormed his way towards the interrogation room where Mills still sat handcuffed.

Agent Garfield, sensing his intentions, grabbed at his jacket, pulling him back towards the bullpen.

“Jughead,” he warned him. “You don’t want to do that, man. Come one. Alice is here and she needs to see you.”

Garfield’s yank stopped Jughead from his forward motion, but Charles’ trajectory kept moving forward. Realizing too late that he was also a loose cannon at that point, Garfield tried to release Jughead to grab Charles, but couldn’t move fast enough.

Flinging open the interrogation room door, Charles pulled Mills up from her chair and pinned her to the wall with his arm at her throat.

“You knew!” he spat at her space. “You knew the whole damned time that Betty wasn’t going to be found at that park!”

Mills gasped for breath as Charles’ arm pressed into her throat, her cuffs stretched tightly as she still remained tethered. Garfield, who had finally caught up, pried Charles off of her body and she sank down a bit against the wall gasping for breath.

As her lungs filled with air again, a sinister, insane smile appeared on her face, her eyes wild and glinting.

“Of course I knew,” she sneered. “You’re never going to find her and it won’t matter if you do. She’s been chosen now for something larger than all of us.”

Jughead, who had stopped to grab Alice, now appeared in the doorway, his future mother-in-law right on his heels.

“Where is she?” Charles demanded. “So help me God, Mills, if anything happens to her…”

“She won’t be sacrificed,” Mills said excitedly. “Tonight, Jupiter and Juno will be reunited once more. The Ides sacrifice will still be held to honor Jupiter, but will also serve as a dual sacrifice to bless their wedding vows.”

“Wedding vows?” Alice peeped from the doorway.

“Yes,” Mills smiled. “Tonight Betty will forget her mortal soul and once again rise as Juno, Goddess and protector of women, wife of our great God Jupiter.”

With happy, insane laughter, Mills scooted down the wall to the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks in pure joy as she thought of the affair.

“It is so!” she chanted in utter jubilation, oblivious to the incredulous looks surrounding her.

With Mills behaving demented and the lack of useful information she provided, they left her in the interrogation room and retreated to Charles’ office where Agent DePaolo joined them.

The second the door was securely shut, Jughead, who had not yet had a chance to express his anger and rage at the situation anywhere else, immediately found his way to a corner where his fist met drywall, breaking through its surface repeatedly as he yelled out in complete frustration.

After a few good punches, Alice approached him, placing a firm hand on his back and another on the side of his face, stopping his momentum and guiding him away from the damage. Turning swiftly, he fell into her embrace, her fingers soothing the back of his head as he slumped against her.

“I’m alright now,” he breathed heavily. “I just needed… I’m alright. Let’s get back to work.”

With a squeeze to his forearm, Alice let him go and offered a small, grim smile before sharing what she had found.

“While you were all out digging up national monuments, I identified the woman from the bridal shop,” Alice shared.

Charles' gaze snapped towards hers and changed from one of shock to confusion.

“How?” he began before Alice spoke again.

“Oh, please,” she drawled with a wave of her hand. “You’re not the only one with sources and connections. Lynette Barker. Investment banker here in the city. Might I suggest we stop assaulting suspects and walls and maybe search both of their apartments for clues?”

Charles looked hopeful again for a moment. He ran a shaking hand through his hair before giving orders to his agents at hand.

“Garfield and DePaolo,” he choked out, still shaken from earlier. “You two take a team and search Lynette Baker’s house for clues. Jughead and I will take another team and do a sweep at Mills’ apartment. Work fast and smart, guys. Betty and Leanna are depending on 

us.”

…..

**Agent Mills Apartment**

**9:22 pm**

Seven agents, along with Charles and Jughead, entered into Agent Mills’ apartment, evidence bags and forensic kits in tow.

Jughead, untrained by the FBI, immediately began searching through her mail files in the kitchen.

“Watch you don’t destroy evidence,” another agent warned as he watched Jughead’s cavalier handling of the papers.

“Betty doesn’t have time for me to be careful with a piece of mail or for you to get forensic results back from a lab,” he growled back. “If you had just done your job five months ago maybe we wouldn’t be here now!”

“Hey, hey,” Charles said calmly. “All of our stress and tension is pretty high right now. Let’s not snap at each other, alright?”

Jughead tossed one final glare back at the agent before resuming his search. Drawers were emptied, shelves cleared and computers searched, but nothing recognizable or incriminating had been found.

“Charles, we’ve been here over an hour,” Jughead sighed. “By now Betty could be… he could be…”

“He’s not,” Charles assured him. “Betty is tough and she knows we are going to find her. She knows how to play the game… probably better than any of us. But you’re right. There’s nothing here.”

Tipping his head back and taking a deep breath, Jughead tried to remain calm. Kicking at some of the books and papers in front of him, one of the book jackets caught his eye.

Bending down, he lifted the book to examine the photograph of the author. He’d seen it somewhere before, but couldn’t quite place it.

“She has shelves and shelves of historical fiction and nonfiction centered around Ancient Rome,” Charles shook his head. “It was all right here.

Jughead barely registered his words as he stared down at the book jacket, puzzled. He began to wrack his brain as to why it seemed to be familiar and like a flash, it all came flying back to him.

Jared Hinkle’s house. The photograph. The blow to the head.

Charles was still speaking, but Jughead had stopped registering his words.

“Charles,” he said quietly. “Charles I’ve seen this man before.”

“... and then we can compare what they found at… wait, what?” Charles trailed off.

Pointing at the book, Jughead pushed it into Charles’ hands frantically.

“Jared Hinkle had some photographs tucked inside a book in his apartment,” he explained. “I didn’t remember because I barely got a look before I was clocked on the head. This man, this author, Victor Antonius, was in the picture. That links them together as more than just author and reader.”

Charles stared down at the book in his hands as if it were the key to it all, and it very well may be.

“Is that connection enough for a warrant to search his home?” Jughead prodded, bouncing a bit on his feet and wiping his palms nervously on his pants.

“It’s enough for me,” Charles smiled, snapping the book shut and heading out the door.

…..

**Unknown Location**

**(Residence of Victor Antonius)**

**10:30 pm**

After her spiritual cleansing, Betty was provided new, white undergarments and a white silk, slip of a robe to wear. They had also left a golden crown made of entwined leaves on a silk pillow for her to place on her head.

Aurelia had braided her hair into an intricate design and left it hanging down the side of her shoulders. She had no idea what time it was, but she knew they would be coming for her shortly. She knew she could not physically overpower an entire cult, so she would have to try and use her wits to save Leanna from being slaughtered like a pig at her ‘wedding.’

The loud click of the lock on her door being turned startled her and she took one last deep breath.

“Keep calm, Betty,” she exhaled, soothing herself as her stomach jittered like lightning bugs in a jar. “You took down The Farm and Edgar Evernever and  _ that  _ psycho had a rocket. You will be fine.”

She stood and smoothed out her robes, striking what she hoped would be considered a poised, Goddess-like pose.

“Juno,” Sarafina exalted. “It is time! It is so!”

“It is time. It is so,” Betty repeated after having heard them use this phrase many times before.

“Do you remember your chant, my Goddess?” Aurelia asked and Betty nodded in return.

The women once again linked arms with Betty and led her from the chamber. They navigated their way down the long, stone hallway which opened up into a hint atrium of sorts. Knocking three times, Aurelia lowered her fist and a large set of wooden, oak doors opened before them.

Betty’s throat tightened and her breathing hitched for a moment. She hadn’t been prepared for the magnitude of what she saw.

Kneeling in rows were at least sixty men and women all cloaked in white robes, white mats laid upon the stone to cushion their knees. Torches and candles burned everywhere and fragrant flowers built an arch over steps leading up towards an altar. 

Dragging her eyes down the aisle, Betty took in the large sculpture of Jupiter holding up the world at the very back of the altar before surveying the scene upon it.

Victor stood smiling, also cloaked in white robes and a golden crown, his hand outstretched towards her with the pater by his side. Leanna Rehms, gagged and shackled with tears streaming down her face lay bent over a stone pillar, clothed in just a white bra and underwear, red paint marking her neck in what Betty assumed was a marker for where she’d be cut.

To the side she spotted a mattress covered in white sheets and flowers as well and she resisted the urge to throw up the bit of fruit she had managed to choke down earlier.

“Juno,” Sarafina whispered, “it is time for you to recite your chant.”

Shaking her head and clearing her thoughts, Betty stood up straighter and looked forward at the altar. With a slight shake to her voice, she said, “Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia.”

Victor exhaled a breath and looked pleased before stepping forward to speak to his followers.

“My children!” he beamed. “We gather today for two auspicious occasions; The Ides and to see my Juno and I reunited in matrimony.”

The congregation around him began to call out in jubilation, with “Praise be” and “It is so.”

“I must warn you,” Victor added, dropping his voice low and tossing a sly, pointed look at Betty. “Our Juno won’t be whole until the ceremony is complete. Her vessel may try to resist or escape, but once we complete our rites, the vessel’s spirit will be cast out and Juno will be whole once more.”

He was smart, Betty realized. Less crazy and more calculated than she had given him credit for. He knew her plan and had anticipated her attempt to escape. She would have to improvise tonight if she were going to have any shot at getting out of here alive or unharmed.

The two pronubras began to tug Betty down the aisle. After a moment she felt her feet begin to move again. Helping her to climb the steps, they unlinked their arms and placed Betty’s hand in Victor’s own, effectively rendering them married and Victor pressed a small, public-appropriate kiss to Betty’s lips.

Looking up proudly, he addressed the room once again.

"Be well, Father Janus of the newly-risen morn. Let us behold in person the shining Gods."

To his right, the priest began to burn fragrant incense that Betty recognized as frankincense from the book shop.

"Be well, Jupiter, Almighty Father, King of Gods and Men and give to me and to our family's home prosperity as well as happiness in our work."

The priest began to swing the incense across the altar.

"It is so!” called the room.

"Father Jupiter and ye summoned Gods, if our dedication brings you pleasure, receive Ye this rite of atonement."

Grabbing the blade nearby, he seized Betty’s hands in his own, wrapping their hands around the handle together and tugging her along towards where Leanna stood. Behind her, Sarafina and Aurelia pushed her along.

Betty dug her heels into the floor, her bare feet scraping and cutting against the rough stone below.

“No!” she screamed out. “No, I will not take part in this! The Gods are already satisfied with just our marriage! Just our union is enough!”

The priest came forward to grasp Betty alongside Sarafina and Aurelia as Victor smiled.

“You see my children,” he bellowed out. “She really is Juno, protector of women!” he cried.

Pulling forward again they dragged her kicking and thrashing towards Leanna’s prone form. Leanna’s entire body was trembling, tears unabashedly washing her face, as she heard the scuffle behind her.

Yanking her up by the hair, Victor stood Leanna upright, bringing the knife to her abdomen first as he still gripped Betty’s fingers tightly.

“No!” Betty cried out, kicking at Victor and successfully throwing an elbow into Sarafina’s nose, blood gushing down the side of her face. Nails pierced her flesh and bruised her pale skin as they gripped her tightly. 

“Enough!” Victor boomed out, tugging forward once forcefully before sliding the knife across Leanna’s abdomen, his mark off due to Betty’s resistance.

Fresh red blood oozed and sprayed from her injury and Leanna screamed a wild groan of agony, her gag muffling the sound. Releasing a shocked and terrified Betty, Victor ran his hands through the dripping liquid, bringing it up to anoint himself before returning for more and smearing the blood across Betty as well, the crimson life force seeping through her robes and coating her skin.

“Will you finish the rest of the cuts, my lord?” the priest asked as the congregation began to sway and hum.

“We need to move forward to resurrect Juno’s spirit,” Victor said breathlessly. “She will bleed out shortly and her blood will stain our altar either way. We skip the breakfast ceremony. Let’s move this along.”

As the humming continued and the priest and women contained a still writhing and screaming Betty, Victor faced the crowd again.

“It is time for our reenactment,” he declared. “Rise and join in!”

Betty had begun to sag against her captors. She could see Leanna still stirring as she lost consciousness, but with that much blood loss, she would die soon without medical attention. Sucking a breath between her teeth, she settled herself and prepared to fight once again.

As some men in the crowd lit torches and women began tossing walnuts at her, they began to shout vulgarities mixed with congratulations. The priest stepped back to let her Pronubras hold her for the seizure of Sabine. 

Victor began to pull at her waist as they pulled at her arms. The blood left her slick and slippery and her arms disengaged from their grasp as she broke out into a run. As Betty hit the steps of the altar, she felt Victor’s arms grip her from behind, wrapping around her waist and lifting her up and over his shoulder as she kicked at him furiously, her hand reaching for the ceremonial knife on the altar over his shoulder.

At this point, with the number of people surrounding her, she knew her chances were slim without help, but she wasn’t going down without a fight or without taking as many of them with her as she could.

Lifting the blade, she jabbed it at Victor’s back forcefully, hoping to disable him enough to run, but instead pierced the skin on his upper thigh as he shifted her at the same time. She felt the priest pull the blade from her grip, slicing the palm of her hand in the struggle.

Limping but still mobile, Victor clung tightly to Betty, spinning towards the stand to the left of the altar where the priest and pronubras scrambled to meet them, skipping the fire and water ritual.

Dropping her to the floor as she continued to kick and flail, her energy and ferocity unsubsiding, Sarafina and Aurelia pinned her down and began to remove her robe as the priest tended quickly to Victor’s leg with a strip of cloth as a bandage, the wound still bleeding profusely and dripping down his leg.

With her white dress gone, the two women began to drag Betty towards the bed. Betty bit into the flesh of Sarafina’s hand, freeing herself for a moment as the other woman recoiled in pain, but Victor’s broad figure appeared before her and stopped any opportunity for freedom.

With a crushing grip, he grabbed Betty by her shoulders and flung her onto the ceremonial bed, climbing over her and pinning her with all four of his limbs.

“Now you become mine,” he growled at her prone form. His wounded leg began to weaken and he could no longer keep her leg pinned under his own. He pushed up a bit as Betty spat in his face before loosening her left leg and kneeing him in the groin.

Enraged, Victor dropped his hands to her throat and began to squeeze, his strong hands leaving bruising marks upon her delicate skin.

With all the force left in her, Betty pushed at his chest in a final attempt to free herself as Victor smiled down lasciviously, licking his lips in anticipation.

A sudden blast and boom forced his head upwards and Betty used that fraction of a second to pull her neck from his grasp and kicked him roughly in the solar plexus.

“FBI!” Charles’ voice rang out, firmly with authority. “Nobody moves!”

A swarm of agents like angry hornets filled the room, forming rings and chains around the kneeling congregation.

Panic filled Victor’s eyes as he saw his world crumbling down before him, the room tilting and slightly blurry as he began to get more woozy from the serious loss of blood.

Jumping up from the bed, he yanked Betty by her braid and pushed her in front of himself as a shield, half-holding up her battered body as she still tried to regain her oxygen flow.

Grabbing the blade the priest had placed back on the altar, Victor pressed it to Betty’s throat, nervously glancing back and forth at all the agents in the room.

Jughead pushed his way forward, one hand outstretched in a halting motion, drawing the attention to himself.

“You don’t have to do this, Victor,” he said shakily. “You don’t have to hurt your Juno.”

With his attention drawn to Jughead on his right climbing the altar steps, his hand dropping a bit as he became more weak from the bloodloss, Charles lifted his weapon and took what might be his only opportunity. Pulling the trigger, he fired a single, well-placed shot, Victor falling to the ground, the blade clanging as it hit the stone.

Within seconds, Jughead was on the altar, his arms secured around Betty as she sunk her face into his neck and wrapped her arms around him like a boa constrictor.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed and cooed into the crown of her hair. “You’re safe now. You’re okay.”

Agents rushed the altar to check Victor and Leanna’s pulse. With a hand on Victor’s wrist, the agent shook his head, dropping his limp limb.

“Boss!” Agent Garfield yelled frantically. “Leanna Rehms has a pulse! Barely, but it’s there! Get the EMTs in here!”

Charles darted up to the altar, halting for a moment next to Jughead to make sure he had Betty taken care of. Removing his FBI windbreaker, he dropped the large jacket over Betty’s shoulders to offer her more privacy, a small nod of thanks from Jughead the only recognition of the action.

While the room buzzed with motion and action, everything stood silent and quiet to Betty. She concentrated on the rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart to calm her nerves and stabilize her.

Leanna Rehms was alive. It was a true miracle and she found herself thanking God, all the Gods, for that small favor. For a long while, as the agents cleared the cult members from the room, Betty didn’t speak. She just breathed and held Jughead tightly.

“Betty,” she heard Charles say softly a few moments later. “Betty, you are covered in blood. The EMTs need to make sure you’re okay.”

“No,” Betty said quietly. “It’s Leanna’s blood, not mine. I’m okay, I don’t even think I need stitches for my hand.

Pulling back slowly from his embrace, Jughead got a good look at her for the first time. There was deep purple bruising around her neck and shoulders and scratches along with small cuts up and down her arms. The cut on her hand was long, but not deep, thankfully.

“Betty,” he urged. “Maybe you should…”

“Jughead,” she said definitively, her wet, tired eyes locking with his own. “I just want to go home.”

Lowering her voice so only he and Charles could hear and pulling the jacket around her body more tightly, she added, “I can still feel his hands on me.”

Jughead sighed a shuddering breath before licking at his lips and glancing up at Charles, his eyes softly pleading with him, and Charles nodded quietly in return, his lips pursed tightly together.

With an arm wrapped around Betty’s shoulders, he led her from the chamber and out into the night air. He would take her home and take care of her. They would get through this together as they always did.

**…..**

**Westin Hotel**

**November 15, 2026**

**1:14 am**

She was exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically. It wasn't the first dangerous situation she had been in by any means, nor the first madman she had a scuffle with. But this felt different. She  _ almost  _ didn’t make it this time.

Shuffling in the hotel door, she stood still and silent on the plush carpeting, the feel between her toes comforting and so vastly different from the cold stone she’d felt all day.

He hadn’t asked her if she was okay. He knew she wasn’t fine but that she would be. Tucking a kiss on the top of her head, he walked past her into the bathroom before turning on the shower and adjusting the temperature of the water.

“I think I ruined Charles’ jacket,” Betty joked, attempting to restore some normalcy to the night.

“I’m sure they have a whole closet full,” Jughead snickered, sliding the ruined Jacket to the floor.

Helping her remove the blood-stained garments she wore, he supported Betty as she climbed into the tub, the warm water loosening her muscles and soothing her skin. Shedding his own clothes, leaving his boxers on, Jughead climbed in behind her. He wanted to be there to support her but also wanted her to feel safe and unpressured at this point. 

Picking up a loofa, he poured some lemon-eucalyptus body wash on top, working up a lather. He began at her neck, gently soothing the bruises there before moving down to her shoulders.

Betty watched the soft determination on his face for moments as the loofa moved from her shoulders, down to her arms, and across her stomach. Her heart clenched when she realized he was washing away Victor’s touch and for the first time since this nightmare began, she let herself cry.

Silent tears dripped down the drain with stained water, as she let the emotional dam she had built burst. Her body began to shake and she knew this was the next stage of shock. Pausing in his cleansing ministrations, he held her against his chest while she cried.

This wasn’t the first time Jughead had held her while she shook after a story, and she had done the same for him. On a grueling mafia case a few years back he was almost shot point-blank range. She remembered holding him too tightly that night, refusing to let him go. For now, she was here and so was he, so she willed her body to calm down and relax.

“I thought I’d never see you again, Juggie,” she confessed, leaning into him further. “I had promised myself I’d get out of there and my belief didn’t falter up until the last few moments…”

Putting the loofah back, Jughead added some shampoo to her hair, massaging it into her scalp and sighing when she relaxed into his touch.

“I have to admit that even for me this one was a little too close for comfort,” he spoke, still working the shampoo through her blonde hair.

“I really hope Leanna a Rehms pulls through,” Betty added as he began to rinse her hair. “She’s going to have a long recovery after what she went through.”

Jughead gently turned her around before tilting her chin up to look at him.

“And what about you?” he asked. “What about what you went through?”

Betty laced her fingers through his, the water flowing down the drain now running clear.

“I have you,” she smiled. “That’s what helps me know that I’ll get past all this in time. Plus, sadly, this is our normal.”

Chuckling again, he turned off the water before opening the curtain and grabbing a bathrobe for Betty and then a bathrobe for himself.

As they dried their hair, Jughead dug through their toiletry case and pulled out the first-aid kit they always brought with them and began to patch up and disinfect her hand.

“Is it sad or smart that we carry a hospital-grade first aid kit with us?” Betty asked after a few moments.

With the final swipe of antiseptic on, he began to wrap a bandage around her cut.

“I think it’s smart,” he reasoned, “but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I hate every time I need to use it on you.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed in agreement as he finished. “How do people do this job alone or with a partner who doesn’t get it? I don’t think I’d survive any of this without you, Juggie.”

He didn’t have an answer because at that moment he was questioning their choices himself. 

They still owned The Register back in Riverdale. They had left Ethel to run it locally when they left for New York. Maybe they should be back home, writing safer stories, raising a family… happy. 

Rather than answer her, he offered Betty a tight-lipped smile and a kiss on the forehead.

“Why don’t you go get into some comfy pajamas,” he suggested. “I’ll make you some tea.”

Before leaving the bathroom she wrapped her arms around him once more, thankful for his care and attention. It was easy for them to be vulnerable around each other and that made all the difference.

As Betty began to rummage through their bags, Jughead shuffled into the small kitchen the room contained. There was an instant pod coffee maker there which also held pods for tea. He knew she’d prefer some herbal tea bag blend, but for now this would do.

Popping the pod into the machine, he braced his hands on the counter and lowered his head, the adrenaline and fear from the day beginning to exit his body now that she was safe and patched up.

“Juggie?” Betty said softly as she entered the kitchen, seeing his shoulders heaving up and down as he tried to control himself for her benefit.

“Jug…” she said again before he finally turned towards her.

Sniffling into his shoulder, he cleared his throat to regain composure.

“Tea is almost ready,” he said. “They-”

But Betty shook her head, her eyes once again clouded over as well. 

“The only thing that kept me going today, Jug, was you,” Betty said softly. “I refused to allow him to marry me because the only marriage I want is one with you.”

With his arms braced behind him on the counter, Jughead offered a small smirk, before raising his eyebrows in a moment of remembrance.

“Speaking of which,” he said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. 

Opening the frayed, brown leather he pulled out her engagement ring before tossing his wallet on the counter-top.

With a contagious and room-brightening smile, Betty clambered forward towards him but was stopped by his outstretched hand.

Kneeling down on the tile floor, he held out the ring to her just as he had done that day years ago.

“Elizabeth Cooper,” he said, eyes crinkling up. “Will you marry me?”

Sliding forward, Betty extended her hand as he slipped on her ring. “Any day and every day, Jug,” she reassured him.

She expected him to stand then, but he stayed put. Cocking her head to the side she studied him carefully.

“What is it, Jug?” she finally asked.

“Betty, I don’t want to wait until April to marry you,” he confessed. “If the last few days taught me anything it’s that time is precious and I can’t wait months anymore. Marry me.”

“When?” she giggled.

“Now? Tomorrow? Tuesday?” he suggested, standing and pulling her into an embrace. 

Wrapping her arms around his neck she reached up to kiss him. It felt cathartic and right to have the feel of his lips back on her own, though it was soft and chaste.

“How about two weeks?” she suggested. “My bruising should be gone by then and we can do it in Pickens Park and Charles can officiate. That’s the place that brought us back together in high school and where you proposed years later.”

Kissing her lips again, then her nose, and then her forehead, he beamed and nodded in agreement. 

“Okay,” he said. “Kevin is going to be so angry.”

In a fit of giggles, they shuffled into the bedroom, their tea forgotten. Climbing under the covers, she lay on his chest and he held her close.

They talked for a while as he filled her in on the events she missed and how they came to find her. They talked about their fears and what kept them going until finally, she yawned.

“I don’t think I can sleep, Juggie,” she confessed after a moment. “I know there are agents outside and everyone is in custody, but-”

“I’ll stay awake, Betts,” he said quickly. 

“You’re exhausted, too,” she huffed out. “And you had a head injury-”

“I’ll stay awake, Betts,” he urged again, this time quite definitively as if it wasn’t a discussion to even be had.

“Okay,” she smiled softly. “Love you, Juggie.”

He wrapped an arm around her tightly and pulled her closer. 

“Love you, too, Betts.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bughead gets married... need I say more?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so excited for a chapter without any eviscerations, mutilations, and other-ations! It’s time for love sweet love and a Bughead wedding! 
> 
> Thank you to all of you who have been reading a commenting! Your words are encouraging and appreciated!
> 
> All the thanks to @jandjslmon for her beta skills, suggestions, and being all around wonderful!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr @likemereckless

**Unsafe Sects: Well-known Author Leads Roman Cult in DC Killings**

**By Elizabeth Cooper and Forsythe Jones**

_ Historical Fiction author, Victor Antonious, was apprehended by the FBI in the early hours of the morning on November 15, at his property outside of Washington D.C. _

_ Antonious, 42, believed himself to be the reincarnation of the Roman God, Jupiter, and he and his followers engaged in human sacrifice to honor the Gods and reunite them in body and spirit. _

_ His plight took the lives of five women across the D.C. area between June and October of this year; Lydia Cartwell(23), Jenna Gallow(27), Mia Jensen(32), Carina Laurel(24), and Sandra Rossi(31). His latest two captives were able to survive their harrowing time with the warped occultists, providing a detailed look into the cult, their beliefs, and the depraved horror within the stone walls. _

**Cooper-Jones Residence**

**Hoboken, New Jersey**

**Tuesday, November 17, 2026**

**3:40 pm**

Betty wasn’t a napper. Sure, Jug was able to coax her into an occasional Sunday afternoon snuggle session that turned into a nice, long afternoon nap, but those occasions were few and far between.

They had been home since Sunday evening after finishing up business in DC. After the distressing events of Saturday night, they had crashed back at the hotel, sleeping well into the hours of the morning. Charles had told them both the night before that Betty would need to make a statement before they left, so after a quick room service brunch, they had called him to get Betty’s account of the day over so they could just head home.

Betty had told Charles she’d come down to the Bureau, but he insisted that just he and Agent DePaolo would come to her due to the intimate nature of the details she would most likely share. Betty assured Jughead that he didn’t need to stay, especially if it would be difficult for him to hear, but as difficult as he knew it would be, he still wanted to support her in whatever she may feel over the coming days. He knew that in order to be there for her he needed to know what happened.

She had been a trooper throughout the statement, providing important details, names, and exact phrases that were uttered. The picture she painted of Victor left Jughead shuddering at even the thought of that monster. He was far more sadistic and deranged than Jughead could have even imagined.

When all was said and done, DePaolo hugged Betty tightly, making her promise to keep in touch and look her up whenever they came back to DC. The sharp inhale of breath and wince at the slight embrace had Charles on the phone calling a physician friend of his, Chandra Claire, to come by the room to check Betty out.

With the adrenaline build-up of the day before, Betty hadn’t quite felt the effects of all her injuries. When the adrenaline was gone, her nerve endings were wide awake and she was quite sore. 

After her examination in the bedroom of their hotel, Chandra and Betty emerged, Betty’s left arm now in a sling, to inform them she just had some deep bruising around her ribs and her windpipe along with a slight hairline fracture of her shoulder. All things considered, it could have been much worse.

Chandra gave Betty some painkillers to help take the edge off before leaving, but once the door shut, Betty flushed the pills right away.

“I’ve seen what those can do to people,” she shrugged at them both before beginning to move around the room to collect more of their things.

“I’m going to shower,” she announced suddenly. “I want to feel more awake for the ride home.”

She hugged Charles goodbye softly before padding down the hall and into the bathroom.

Charles waited until the water was on before he spoke.

“You’ll take care of her?” Charles said it as both a question and a statement.

“Always do,” Jughead replied quite matter of factly. “Also, before you go we had a favor to ask of you.”

“Name it,” he said immediately. “I owe you two so much after getting you tangled up in this nightmare. Name anything.”

Jughead shook his head softly before hopping up to sit on the kitchen counter.

“It’s nothing crazy,” he explained. “We just talked last night and after the past few days we decided that we don’t want to wait until April to get married. You never know what will happen one day to the next, so we want to get married in two weeks, back home in Riverdale, and we were hoping you would officiate since you are a government official who can probably get ordained quickly as a favor.”

Charles broke out into a wide grin before pulling his half-brother into a tight, half-hug.

“Of course,” he said flattered. “Nothing would make me happier than seeing you two finally say, ‘I do’ and I’d be honored to officiate.”

With a few more exchanges and words, they said goodbye and Jughead finished packing before Betty had emerged from the shower.

They were both happy to be heading home.

The trip itself was, thankfully, uneventful, but the day after quite the whirlwind.

In order to have the scoop on the story, they had to begin writing the minute they arrived home and have the piece to their editor by the early morning hours on the 16th for publication.

After hearing the details, he insisted they take a few weeks off to recuperate and take it easy. They had accrued more than enough vacation time because they rarely ever rested.

Now, with their story done and things settling, the house was quiet. Jughead sat in their living room, working on his newest novel when he heard their bedroom door pop open.

Padding down the steps in flying pig shorts and one of his t-shirts, Betty approached him wordlessly, moved his computer, and straddled his lap, laying herself forward with her head on his chest.

“Betts?” he asked softly after a few moments. 

“I had a bad dream,” she whispered into his flannel, “and your heartbeat makes me feel safe.”

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tightly and just let her be, not quite asleep, but not quite ready to be awake yet either. Jughead held her for what seemed like an hour before she edged back slowly, biting her lip and shrugging a bit self-consciously.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, brushing some hair from her face.

She shook her head softly in return. “It’s probably exactly what you’d imagine,” she shared. “You and Charles don’t get there in time and…”

Jughead had hated many people in his lifetime. Penny Peabody. The Black Hood. Malachi. the Sugarman. Every human being at Stonewall Prep. But his hatred for Victor had taken on a new level. 

He didn’t want Betty to worry about him, so he controlled his anger and anguish and instead tended to her needs.

“I can’t imagine what it was like for you,” he murmured against her ear, pulling her in close. “And I won’t pretend I can even understand what it feels like. But whatever you need me to do, or say, or  _ not  _ do and  _ not  _ say, I’ll be whatever you need, Betty.”

“That was perfect, Juggie,” she sighed, leaning into him. “That was just what I needed.”

The shrill ringing of his cell phone pulled them from their quiet moment.

“Hello?” he answered and she lumbered off his lap. “Right now?”

He seemed agitated but compliant, so Betty could only assume it was their editor on the phone.

“Alright,” he sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Franco?” Betty questioned when he hung up the phone.

“Yeah,” Jughead nodded. “He needs my signature on a few things before we are officially on vacation so I have to run into the office for an hour or so.”

With a quick peck to his cheek, Betty pushed him up from the couch towards the stairs.

“Go,” she said, trying but failing to sound reassuring. “I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t so sure, but he headed upstairs to get ready anyway.

Thirty-five minutes later the doorbell sounded as Jughead descended the stairs.

Opening the door, Betty was greeted by none other than her best friend carrying a large bag from her favorite place, Dondero’s Gelato.

“Did you call me a babysitter?” Betty shot back at Jughead without even addressing Veronica.

“I may have simply called your best friend and said you were in need of ice cream and girl talk,” he answered innocently. “It just happens to coincide with my leaving the house.”

She wanted to be mad, but the fact was, Betty was grateful to him. She hadn’t wanted to be by herself, left alone in the quiet to deal with her feelings from the last few days. Some girl talk would be just the thing to help heal..

“First of all,” Veronica interrupted, pointing at Jughead, “It’s not ice cream. It’s  _ gelato _ . There  _ is  _ a difference. Secondly, I would have shown up at some point today anyway, B, to make sure my bestie was on the mend, so don’t be too mad at your well-intentioned Romeo.”

Smiling gratefully at Veronica, Jughead pecked Betty goodbye on the forehead and headed out to grab the Path to the city.

Betty grabbed bowls from the cabinet and Veronica scooped out no less than eight different flavors into their bowls, insisting it was just what they both needed today. And she was right.

She kept Betty distracted with tales of her incompetent employees and the mishap Cheryl had recently at a Brazilian wax place uptown.

“I mean honestly,” Veronica laughed over her now empty bowl. “What would possess her to go to a place named  _ The Pretty Kitty _ !”

Betty was happily in tears and her stomach was full. They both curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over them as they talked and snacked.

“V?” she said softly as her tears subsided. “Thank you. I- I really needed this. Jug has been so wonderful, but he was there for it all and he keeps waiting for me to need something or… crack. This little bit of rest has been perfect.”

“Veronica Lodge aims to please,” she teased back, grabbing Betty’s hand in her own. “But on that subject,” she pressed. “Is there anything you might want to talk about with me rather than your wonderful, albeit slightly overprotective, fiancé?”

Betty played with the gelato soup left at the bottom of her bowl for a moment before leaning forward and placing it on the coffee table.

“So, you know how we decided to move up the wedding?” she asked with a deep inhale in.

“Very romantic if you ask me,” Veronica smiled. “Like your love just couldn’t wait anymore. Though, I am afraid of how Kevin will react when you tell him tomorrow and, no, I am still not coming to act as a buffer. Now, go on.”

“I’m nervous,” she said hesitantly. “About the wedding night. What if-”

Veronica gave Betty’s hands a knowing squeeze and a half-smile in understanding.

“B,” she said warmly. “I know there are tons of preconceived notions about what  _ should _ happen on a wedding night, but you  _ know _ down in your heart that Jughead would not care one bit if you just ate leftover cake and cuddled all night.”

“No,” Betty huffed out. “I don’t mean that I won’t be able to… you know. I think I’ll be fine.”

Veronica looked perplexed for a moment and opened her mouth as if to speak before closing it again.

“Okay,” she said baffled. “I thought I was with you, but I’m not following.”

“I was lucky, V,” Betty said. “I’m not traumatized the way you think I am. I mean, it was horrible, but I’m going to be okay. But what if Jughead is so afraid I’ll break or that I’m nervous or fragile and he acts differently with me.”

Veronica sat quietly for a while, eyes gazing up at the ceiling in thought before glancing back at Betty again.

“Well,” she suggested. “Why don’t you just talk to him about it, B. Knowing you two, you’ll never make it two weeks anyway. Just put on one of your Lodge approved lingerie sets and that boy won’t be able to pick his jaw up off the floor fast enough to even make it to the bedroom.”

Betty burst out in open-mouthed laughter at her friend’s audacity before fake slapping her hands away. In truth, she was happy for the advice. Veronica was right. There was nothing to be worried about.

  
  


**The Paxton**

**Cocktails and Tapas**

**Wednesday, November 18th**

**8:45 pm**

“Remind me why we are in this overpriced, pretentious, hipster, HGTV decorated establishment?” Jughead asked Betty while glancing at the menu.

Giving him the eyes, she pushed the menu down to get his full attention.

“You know Kevin loves this place and he’s going to lose his mind when we tell him about the change in wedding plans,” Betty reminded him.

“But, Betts,” he groaned, pointing at the menu she now held. “Listen to these drink names. It’s Fa Har, The Manmosa, Detox 2.0, Ralph’s Field of Greens…”

Betty bit at her water straw to try and hold back a laugh at his annoyance with the menu.

“I mean really, Betty,” he continued. “Half these drinks contain juniper, lavender, sage and elderberry. I’m not sure if I’m making a cocktail or collecting items in a Legends of Zelda game.”

He didn’t actually care about the drinks, but he knew his abuse of the menu would make her laugh. Giggling and slapping him in the arm, her eyes crinkled up with mirth.

“Lovebirds,” Kevin greeted, taking a seat across from them at the table.

“Kev!” Betty blurted out, a bit too excitedly and over the top. “I’m so happy to see you and just relax a bit tonight.”

“You?” he countered, grabbing a menu. “I spent all day with an orange, angry, Jersey Shore bride. I’ve never needed a cocktail so badly.”

Betty forced out a laugh at his joke and kicked a Jughead in the leg, eyes wide demanding he join in.

“Uh, so what’s good here, Kev?” Jughead asked at Betty’s bequest.

“Well, recently I’ve been going for the Chic Twist,” Kevin said. “It’s made with flower city gin, quinine water, sprayed with some orange blossom water, and is stirred exactly seven times with a jalapeño and a hibiscus flower.”

Jughead didn’t answer right away as he processed the order, staring at Kevin and then the menu.

“So, basically a gin and tonic stirred with odd kitchen and garden paraphernalia that costs seventeen dollars?” Jughead asked, wincing as he received another kick from Betty.

“Oh Jughead,” Kevin shook his head. “This is why  _ I’m _ setting the cocktail menu for your post-nuptial soirée.”

The waiter appeared at that moment and took their drink and tapas order, asking Jughead if he’d actually like the Guinness he ordered or if he’d rather him just spit in a glass for free.

“Snarky waiters, fancy cocktails, and tiny food,” Jughead mumbled when he walked away. “What is happening in the world?”

Clearing her throat, Betty reached across the table to pass the bread basket to Kevin.

“Hey Kev?” she asked nervously. “We actually wanted to talk to you about some wedding-related stuff while we are here tonight.”

Kevin’s eyes lit up like a firecracker on Independence Day and his smile stretched from coast to coast.

“Betty Cooper!” he bellowed out, making a couple walking by their table jump. “Be still my heart! I have waited over two years to hear you say those words!”

The waiter reappeared with their drinks, placing the two cocktails before Kevin and Betty and begrudgingly placing the pint of beer in front of Jughead.

“Your food will be out in just a few,” he explained. “Should you need me before then, just give a wave.” 

Betty sipped her cocktail which was a combination of a hibiscus syrup, orange-infused organic vodka, rose water, and a lemon rosemary ice cube and quickly and discreetly spit some of the putrid bathwater back in her glass, shooting Jughead a disgruntled look at his slight snicker.

“This is to die for,” Kevin groaned, placing his drink back down. “Okay. Tell me. What wedding details are we planning tonight?”

Placing her glass back on the table, Betty sat up straighter and stirred the cloudy liquid with the little pick they placed in it. 

“Before I tell you what we came here tonight to say, I just want you to know that we appreciate everything you’ve done so much and are so lucky to have you in our lives, Kev,” Betty assured him.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you,?” Kevin blurted out. “And you’re skipping the wedding so as not to have a giant baby bump in your photo sesh…”

Jughead took a sip of his beer and laughed into the glass. At least he got half of the story right.

“Kevin!” Betty glared at him. “I’m drinking a cocktail. I am not pregnant. But we are cancelling the wedding… sort of.”

Kevin looked on in complete and utter shock, as if he had been kidding in his prior claims.

“Seriously?” he chastised. “I have a venue booked, a florist, I was looking at tiny butterflies to be released when you said, ‘I do’...”

When it came to Kevin’s wedding plans, Betty had told Jughead if he didn’t have anything nice to say, not to say anything at all. At the mention of butterflies, he took a gulp of his beer so large that his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel in order to hold his tongue.

“Kevin,” Betty said sweetly, reaching across the table to grip his hand. “After everything we just went through, we just don’t want to wait until April. We want to get married the Saturday after next back home in Riverdale at Pickens Park. We almost didn’t make it to today, let alone months from now. We just want to be married.”

Kevin’s expression softened and he gave her hand a little squeeze back, adding a slight sigh of agreement, laced with a tinge of disapproval.

“You know I can’t be mad at you, Betty,” he conceded. “You on the other hand,” he said more sternly, pointing at Jughead. “I’m sure this was somehow your doing?”

Jughead lifted up an arm to wrap it around Betty’s shoulders, knowing Kevin was only busting his chops. He decided to play dirty anyway knowing he was a sucker for romance.

“I’m sorry man,” he said with a shrug. “But when I put that ring back on her finger I just realized I never wanted it to come off again. I couldn’t wait any longer. Betty is my forever and I needed forever to start now.”

Betty looked over at her fiancé, a sappy pout on her lips as she leaned over to peck him on the lips. Kevin looked far off and dreamy as he gave them a half-smile and brought a hand to his chest.

“Fine,” he cooed. “But only because your love is inspiring… and under the condition that you write your own vows and I still get to arrange the ambiance because, damn, Jughead, that was pretty moving dialogue.”

The rest of the evening flowed smoothly, laughter and stories circulating around the table. Their tapas plates were littered with the aftermath of their meal. Kevin filled them in on Jayden, his new boyfriend, and Betty insisted Kevin invite him to the wedding so she could meet him. 

They paid their bill before ordering their last drinks and sat nursing their cocktails while their conversation continued. Kevin’s third concoction had come with a stemmed, maraschino cherry on a little toothpick. Picking it from his glass, he placed the offending fruit on a spare napkin nearby.

Betty reached over to grab at the toothpick. Sucking the cherry between her lips and slowly pulling off the little green stick, she pushed the cherry stem out a few moments later to discard on her own napkin.

Jughead watched with rapt fascination, his eyes unwavering as he watched her devour the treat, a predatory look on his face.

“Well,” Kevin grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “I believe that the look on Jughead’s face that says ‘I’m about to devour my girlfriend, public space be damned,’ is my cue to go.”

Downing the rest of his drink, he stood and offered Betty a hug goodbye and Jughead a slight wave.

“I’ll be in touch with new plans,” he said as he left the table. “Have a good night and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

When he was out of sight, Jughead turned back to Betty.

“Don’t do anything he wouldn’t do?” he chuckled. “That doesn’t rule out much, does it?”

Betty chortled at his joke in complete agreement, the intense gaze in her eyes burning a hole through him.

“Betts,” he said low, his voice a bit choked and rough. “We don’t have to-”

“Take me home, Juggie,” she interrupted breathlessly. “Take me home.”

**Cooper-Jones Residence**

**11:47 pm**

They had somehow made their way up the stairs and into the bedroom, though neither of them could recall how. His lips had been glued to hers since the moment the key unlatched the front door.

Pulling back abruptly, he looked down at her, face flushed and eyes filled with lust.

“Is this okay?” he asked breathlessly. “Am I hurting you?”

She shook her head slightly, the smallest hint of a soft smile at the edges of her lips.

“I’m a little sore, Jug,” she confessed, unable to lie to him. “But I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to look at myself and see bruises or damage and I don’t want you to see that either. I just want to feel alive tonight.”

Their lips crashed into each other once more as he backed her further into their bedroom, his hands holding her jaw in place firmly, but gently.

His tongue pushed past her lips as their kissing became more frantic. Their lips collided over and over, tongues dancing a battle for dominance as he guided her slowly over to the corner of their room where her freestanding, body length mirror stood.

Gripping her by the shoulders, he spun her around to face the mirror, pulling her body flush against his chest and dropping his lips to her neck so she could see their reflections displayed in front of her.

Unzipping the back of the floral dress she wore, he pushed the fabric from her shoulders and let it pool at her feet, dragging his gaze up to meet hers in the reflective glass before them.

“You are far from damaged, Betty,” he whispered to her reflection. “When I look at you that’s not what I see at all.”

He skimmed his fingertips across her neck first, ghosting the bruises that still remained there.

“Here I see strength,” he whispered, resuming his kisses against her neck. “You wouldn’t allow anyone to silence you.”

Next, he traced her collarbone with the barest of touches, resting on her damaged shoulder where he stopped his fingers and dropped his lips.

“Here I don’t see damage either,” he said as his lips left a trail of kisses. “I see fight and spirit.”

“And as I keep looking,” he flirted, hands skimming down her back to unhook her bra, “All I see is a confident woman. A beautiful woman. My woman.”

As his hand dropped lower and finally rested where she wanted it to be, she bit her lip and closed her eyes.

“Look at me,” he insisted. “Look at yourself and see what I see, Betty.”

Betty arched her neck and lay back against him, rocking her hips alongside him.

“I said open your eyes,” he demanded.

Forcing her eyelids to open, she found his reflection in the mirror, wide and soft, loving and lustful, and she shattered into a million pieces, not worrying where they fell since he was there to help put them back together.

For a moment she sagged back against his chest, but he was relentless in his pursuit. Moving out from behind her, he moved towards her front, his back to the mirror.

She reached for his t-shirt with her uninjured arm, but he pushed it away, instead falling to his knees in front of her and kissing his way down her sternum, stopping to bite at her hip bone.

“Jug,” she gasped at the slight sting from the nip, only to be thrown off her center of gravity as he tossed her left leg over his shoulder and resumed his assault on her senses.

Her hand flew into his hair for balance, tugging harder than comfortable most likely, but he didn’t seem to mind. His arms grabbed at her hips, anchoring her in place and supporting her as she stood.

It was odd to be watching this less as an active participant, but also like a voyeur in the mirror before her. She felt beautiful and most definitely strong and desired.

Still sensitive from earlier, it didn’t take long to bring her to the brink once more. It was mere moments until she was fisting his hair and crashing over the edge again, pulling him up as quickly as she could.

Their mouths collided together and, as they backed their way across the room, she helped him shed his clothes in a littered pathway.

Pausing at the side of the bed, he began to lean forward, forcing her to sit back and rest on the edge. With her under him, he grabbed at her hips, scooting her farther onto the mattress as he advanced over her, covering her body with his own.

With how worked up they were tonight, he’d normally contort her into some awkward position that they’d attempt and laugh about afterwards, but while he wanted to prove a point to her tonight, he also was cognizant of the hairline fracture on her shoulder.

Lacing the fingers on her right hand with his, he pushed it up over her head, leaving her injured left arm to lay on the bed, and leaned down to kiss her again, this time with less intensity and more depth.

“You could never be anything less than loveable to me, Betty,” he whispered, pulling back. “Maybe sometimes headstrong, and a little bit annoying, especially when you do the grocery shopping and fill my plate with veggie burgers that you try to pass off as real food,” he added, making her laugh.

She curled her leg around his hip to bring him closer to her, urging him to move.

“But that only makes me love you more,” he expressed. “You’re the strongest person I know and I won’t let anyone say otherwise.”

“Jug,” she choked out just before he began to move.

Dropping his nose against hers, he brushed their faces together for a moment before kissing her again. Squeezing the leg around him tighter, she urged him to move faster and he effortlessly obeyed.

“Betty, I-”

“Me too, Jug,” she sighed out as their motions became more erratic before halting altogether, Betty falling back flat and Jughead shifting himself over to the side on his back so as not to squish her shoulder with his weight.

After a few moments to catch their breath, Betty sat herself up slightly and began to push his sweat-dampened hair from his face.

“You’re too good to me, you know?” she whispered, her voice laced with adoration.

“I prefer to think we’re just good for each other,” he offered back. “We take care of each other. We always have.”

“Always will,” she replied, scooting over to lay her head on his chest.

…..

**Saturday, November 21, 2026**

**2:27pm**

The buzzer on their front doorbell rang. They had spent the day lazily hanging out in bed, lounging on the couch, reading and watching Netflix. It was nice to have no purpose or plans for a while and to just fill an afternoon with leisure.

“I’ll get it,” he called, closing the book he had been reading and slipping her penguin-socked-feet off his lap.

“Package for Betty Cooper,” the delivery man called, holding a large parcel in his hands along with a brown manila envelope attached to the side.

Grabbing the clipboard from his hands, Jughead signed for the package before thanking him and closing the door.

“Did you order something giant?” he asked as he carried the box into the kitchen. “Maybe a weighted blanket or like a seven-million piece puzzle?”

Creasing her brow, Betty closed her book and placed it on the coffee table, heading into the kitchen to investigate. 

Jughead tugged the manila envelope off the lid and passed it over to her, pulling up a stool nearby to see what the mystery package contained.

Slicing through the glue, Betty opened the envelope and pulled out a hand-written note, perfectly penned on pink, flower petal stationary.

_ Dear Ms. Cooper, _

_ A friend of yours called my dress shop on Tuesday and informed me of the change in your wedding plans. I spoke with Nina, the dress guide and seamstress who helped fit you and we both agreed that getting married in something that wasn’t your dream dress was just not appropriate for a woman such as yourself. _

_ With the measurements we took, Nina did her best to tailor the gown as quickly as possible, but you may need to further seek some slight alterations. _

_ Nina, myself, my daughter, grand-daughter, and all the women of Washington DC are in your debt and we thank you for your courage and hard work in making our city safe once again. _

_ Please send us photos of you in your gown. Nothing would make us more proud than to know that we helped make the day of a woman who has helped so many of us. _

_ We also understand your fiancé was integral in the capture of that maniac as well. Our gift to him is a complimentary suit from one of our New York partners. You can find the address on the attached card. Also, this dress is part of his gift as well. Nina said he’s going to pass out when he sees you. _

_ Warmly, _

_ Connie Wright, Elegant Bridal _

_ (And Nina… who wants to add, “Don’t slouch in my dress.”) _

“Betts?” Jughead questioned as she read the letter and smiled, a happy sheen of tears threatening to fall.

Passing him the letter she grabbed the box and headed up to their bedroom.

“Sorry, Jug,” she teased. “You don’t get to see the dress before the big day. Bad luck.”

Grinning he finished reading the letter and placed it back down on the counter.

“We can’t have that now can we?” he teased. “I promise I won’t peak. I want to see it on you anyway, not in a box.”

As Betty headed up the stairs, she pulled out her cell phone and hit a frequently used speed dial contact.

“You’re calling Veronica, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Time to play dress up, Juggie,” she said excitedly. “You should call Arch and go out for a guys night. V and I might be a while!”

…..

**Jones Household**

**Riverdale**

**Friday, November 27, 2026**

**9:15 pm**

Tomorrow was the big day. After about two-and-a-half years of engagement, they would finally tie the knot back home in Riverdale where it all began.

It was odd, yet comforting, to be spending the night before her wedding in the home that she grew up in - that was technically no longer hers since the Jones’ had purchased it years ago.

FP had offered to leave them to their ‘girl stuff’ and got a room with Jughead, Archie, and Charles over at the Five Seasons for the night. Betty, Alice, Veronica, and JB, who was now in college but luckily home for fall break, were all sprawled out in the living room after prepping everything for the following day. 

“The bagels are being delivered at nine,” Alice repeated for what was the fortieth time that day as she went over her to-do list aloud. “You need to make sure you eat in the morning. We can’t have you passing out before you say, ‘I do,’.”

Betty smiled over at Veronica who took a deep breath and discreetly rolled her eyes back. Between steaming garments and wrapping cookie favors, Alice had not given them a moment’s peace since the day had begun.

“I still can’t believe you are getting married tomorrow,” Veronica burst. “I’m thinking back to that day in the student lounge when he put his arm around you in front of us and our eyes just bugged out of our heads.”

Giggling, Betty smiled back at the memory. She’d love to say they were simpler times, but that would be a lie. Things had never been simple for them, but that’s what made them so close.

“Yes, well, I didn’t always see things quite the same way,” Alice smiled. “I remember him showing up for breakfast and inhaling his food, stomping around in that old, worn hat and his leather jacket. It took me a while to see past all that, but I’m happy that you were able to, Betty. He loves you.”

“You two were so gross,” JB deadpanned. “That entire time you stayed with us during college was a constant horror movie for me. Walk in the kitchen for an apple, making out. Want to watch TV in the living room, making out. Need to brush my teeth before school starts, making out. There was no safe space.”

Betty turned fuschia at JB’s description of their younger selves, while Veronica cackled at Alice’s expression.

“You laugh, but you have NO idea,” JB added with a phony shudder for emphasis. “They had this  _ terrible  _ jazz playlist and…”

“Okay!” Betty interrupted. “That’s enough sharing I think!”

“Oh, please B,” Veronica smiled slyly. “Moving this wedding denied us a bachelorette party and a shower. Did you think you were getting off that easy?”

Glancing mischievously over at Alice, Veronica rose to grab some boxes they had stashed nearby.

“Time for some pre-wedding gifts from your fabulous family,” she sang out, JB, Alice, and herself grinning with excitement.

“Should I be nervous?” Betty asked teasingly.

“Yes,” JB said sincerely, glancing over at Alice at the same time.

“This one first,” Alice smiled, passing Betty a small box. “It’s something old,” she explained.

Tearing off the paper, Betty opened the lid to find delicate, dangling pearl earring with a small stone at the top of each.

“These were my mother’s and I wore them on my wedding day,” Alice explained. “We didn’t have much and she almost pawned then. But in the end, she couldn’t get rid of something so precious to our family. She wanted me to have them and now I want you to have them.”

Betty offered Alice a half-smile and half-pout as she leaned over to hug her. Alice wiped at the corners of her eyes, finding herself more emotional than she thought she’d be at the idea of Betty being wed.

“Next!” Veronica grinned, passing Betty a larger, but still flat box. “Something new.”

Betty untied the silk ribbon attached to the box and lifted the lid only to blush furiously for the second time that night.

“Seriously?” she hissed out, ready to put the lid back on as Veronica clicked at her in disbelief, reaching over to pull out the gift.

The lingerie was delicate and made from intricate white lace. It was actually quite beautiful but didn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Oh, Veronica, you were right. That is beautiful,” Alice gushed while Betty sat mortified at her mother, future sister-in-law, and best friend examining her bedroom attire.

“It’s from Paris,” Ronnie explained. “I knew Betty would look super delicate in something like this. Perfect for your wedding night, B!” she teased with a waggle of her brows.

“V!” she flushed, glancing over at JB who looked equally as mortified.

“Oh come now, Betty,” Alice hushed her with a sway of her hand. “We’ve all lived with you enough to know you’re not actually a prude. It's a wedding tradition, dear, and Jughead will love you in it.”

“Okay,” Betty said curtly, stuffing the white lace back in the box before closing the lid. “All done for now. Thank you.”

Giggling at her discomfort, Alice passed her the next box they had wrapped.

“Something borrowed,” she explained.

With the white paper torn, Betty found a shoebox with a pair of white lace heels, very delicate and elegant.

“I was going to buy you your own pair, but you needed something borrowed,” she explained. “But if you borrow them indefinitely, that’s fine, too.”

Betty ran her fingers across the top of the toe, taking in all the intricate details.

“They are perfect,” she gushed. “And I may just take you up on that non-return policy.”

JB passed over the last box. “Something blue,” she explained.

The last package was long and rectangular and what Betty had come to expect to be for jewelry. With the paper and lid torn off, she could now see where the ‘something blue’ came from. 

Inside, Betty found a bracelet that was very much her style. It wasn’t too embellished or dressy but rather silver and simple, with two small charms attached; a ‘J’ and a ‘B’, along with a blue sapphire embedded inside a heart charm suspended between the other two.

“Guys!” she said, holding it up to examine it further. “This is perfect. I love this, and everything and all of you.”

“Actually,” Veronica said reluctantly. “I wanted your something blue to be from Tiffany & Co., but your almost-husband had other plans and picked this out himself.”

Betty let the charms tinkle against her fingertips as her cheeks dimpled. It seemed like something Jughead would normally pick out, with just a touch more sophistication in the form of a gemstone for their wedding. He wasn’t a jewelry kind of guy, and she wasn’t a jewelry kind of girl, but this was sentimental and perfect.

“Thank you all for everything,” Betty gushed. “I’m so lucky to have you all by my side tomorrow.”

“And speaking of tomorrow,” Alice said, pushing off the couch and standing. “We all need to get some sleep. We can’t have bags under our eyes in the wedding photos.”

With hugs and exchanges of thanks, Veronica headed back to The Pembrooke with instructions to be there by nine the next morning and JB, Alice, and Betty headed up to bed.

Betty closed the door to her bedroom and had just sat down at her vanity when she heard a tap at the window that startled her.

Jumping up from her seat, she looked to see Jughead perched on her roof and dashed over to fling open the window.

“Jughead!” she whispered out incredulously. “What are you doing? We are not fifteen anymore!”

Wincing as he lumbered through the window frame, he all but crashed into her bedroom.

“Hey there, Juliet,” he said as he righted himself. “Yep, thought that would be more romantic, but definitely getting older.”

Giggling at his entrance, Betty couldn’t help but smile at his stupid, yet albeit adorable, attempt at romance.

“You’re not supposed to see me tonight, at least according to my mother,” Betty teased, crossing the room to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Yeah, well, that’s what she said back in high school, too, but it never stopped me from sneaking through your window at night.”

With a long, but soft kiss hello, she pulled back and sighed.

“You’re not getting cold feet or anything, are you?” she asked. “Because if you were you should have told me  _ before  _ I spent all day with my controlling, detail-oriented mother.”

Jughead linked his fingers through hers and pulled her towards the bed, sitting down at its edge and dragging her onto his lap.

“No cold feet at all,” he grinned, lifting up her hands to kiss her knuckles. “I just can’t sleep without you… or at least I don’t want to.”

Betty gazed over him with a Mona Lisa smile, her expression meaningful and soft. For a moment she saw that shy awkward boy she fell in love with and not the confident, strong man she was about to marry. They were both  _ so  _ different from the original versions of themselves, but still so much the same.

“What?” he asked as she sat staring at him in silence.

“Nothing,” she smiled with a shake of her head. “Let’s get some sleep. Some of us need to look our best in the morning.”

Laying down she climbed in next to him and rested her head on his chest.

“That’s true,” he agreed, wrapping an arm around her. “Your mother will be angry if I have bags under my eyes in the photos.”

…..

**November 28, 2026**

**8:00 am**

The morning had been an absolute whirlwind. Alice had woken Betty up at eight, pounding on the bedroom door for her to get up and get showered.

“Elizabeth,” she yelled, banging again with her fist. “Send Jughead home and get in that shower. Breakfast will be here at nine and the hair and makeup team soon after!”

Groaning, Betty pulled back the covers and pushed Jughead’s arm off herself.

“How’d she know I was here,” he grumbled through his still sleepy fog.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake Jughead,” Alice cried through the door. “You weren’t quiet back then sneaking in and you’re absolutely no better at it now.”

After a quick kiss goodbye, Jughead had left, through the front door this time, and Betty showered, changed into a robe with ‘Bride’ written on the back in pink that Veronica had given to her, and headed downstairs to be poked, pulled, prodded and beautified. 

Bagels, mimosas, and trays of fruit were out to pick on all morning as Alice, Betty, Veronica and JB had their hair and makeup done. About halfway through the process, the doorbell rang and Polly had arrived sans kids to participate in the morning events.

“You’re going to be the most beautiful bride, sister,” Polly said sweetly. “And it’s a perfect day.”

“It’s perfect now,” Betty beamed, as Alice chastised her not to mess up her mascara so early in the day.

Throughout the morning, Veronica kept in touch with Kevin who had planned the decor and day from ceremony to reception. 

“Should I be worried?” Betty asked at one point when Veronica looked surprised. 

“Everything is fine, B,” she reassured her as she talked to Kevin quietly in the kitchen.

“Whatever you say,” Betty sighed as the hairdresser worked on her partial updo. “As long as there are no butterflies…”

Veronica’s eyes widened and she turned her back to whisper into the receiver, “Hard no on the butterflies. I repeat, definitely no butterflies.”

Finally, after what seemed like hours of preparation, the time had come. A photographer Kevin hired appeared at the house to take some photos of Betty and the girls prior to the ceremony. She posed for some with Alice, Polly and Veronica as well zipping up her dress and putting on her jewelry.

“Oh Betty,” Alice smiled, looking her over. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

“That dress is amazing,” Polly gushed as Betty came down the stairs.

“Your ass looks so good, B,” Veronica nodded triumphantly. “Jughead is going to swallow his own tongue.

“Gross,” JB groaned. “Completely gross. But you do look really great, Betty.”

**3:00**

They arrived at the park and the sun was shining, leaving the air warm for late November. Betty remained hidden along with Alice behind a column of trees, just out of sight of Jughead.

Kevin, in his element, was wearing a headpiece and directing the slow of the event. Lining them up, he queued the music and sent Alice, then JB, followed by Veronica, down the aisle towards the gazebo.

Unwilling to let Betty walk on mud, he had ordered a runner to guide her down the aisle.

“You ready, Betty?” Kevin grinned at her. “Because it’s showtime.”

Smiling back she took a deep breath and nodded, gripping her simple bouquet tightly.

“You look stunning,” Kevin nodded, placing a quick peck on her cheek. “Now, go get Jones’d, Betty Cooper.”

With a final deep breath, and remembering not to slouch as Nina had insisted, Betty rounded the corner and came face to face with her soon-to-be-husband. He stood up at the gazebo, his wild hair tamed as much as it could be, with Archie by his side.

She didn’t walk at first, but took a moment to take it all in, to take him in. His tailored black suit fit him like a glove but she could see the telltale sign of his suspenders peeking out which made her more relaxed, knowing that under the fancy fabric he was still just himself.

The gazebo looked nothing like she remembered. Kevin had gone completely above and beyond, decking every inch of it with flowers and vines and adding a floral arch over the entrance.

Beginning her march, Betty locked her eyes on Jughead’s, ignoring the guests in the aisles alongside her, Veronica and Archie up front, and her half-brother, Charles, who was waiting to officiate. There was only one thing she cared about today and that was Jughead.

When she reached the gazebo, he offered her an arm and a light peck on the cheek, a gesture that was not practiced at their rehearsal Kevin had insisted upon days ago. He couldn’t help himself and just wanted to get in close enough to whisper so only she could hear.

“Beautiful,” he cooed, before talking a few steps up to the gazebo platform and pulling her along with him. Turning to face each other they held hands as Charles spoke, though if you asked them later, neither could completely recall what he had said. They were too lost in each other.

“They may be all shined up,” Charles joked to open the ceremony. “But they had to sneak a kiss in before I pronounced them man and wife so we know under the lace and hairspray it’s still just them.”

Laughter rang out across the small group of guests at his introduction.

“All of you here today know our family story. It’s not a typical one, but at least it has a good ending. I’m more than honored to be able to stand up here in front of you all and join Betty and Jughead, he told me he’d kill me if I called him Forsythe, in wedded bliss today.”

More laughter echoed through the park and Jughead shrugged out at them. It was true. If he was marrying Betty today he should be who he has been all along and to her that was Jughead.

“Love comes in many forms. I’ve seen it happy and I’ve seen it during times of grief. I’ve seen love falter and build itself back up again. But I’ve never seen another love like this. Betty and Jughead seem to have a simple synchronicity with one another that is rare and precious.”

“We’ve all watched them through the years, growing and changing, adjusting to new phases of life and challenges, but throughout that, they’ve remained each other's constants; a grounding force, and a place to call home. I think I speak for everyone today when I say that your love inspires us all.”

“And so, Jughead,” he said blissfully. “I invite you to declare your love for Betty here, now, before friends and family.”

Jughead took a deep breath, his stomach fluttering with nerves. It was one thing to confess his love for Betty privately, but to speak in front of all their friends and family was an intimidating experience.

“When we decided to write our own vows,” he began, “I started looking for quotes and inspiration in novels since writing, sleuthing, is what brought us together to begin with. Halfway through a few pages of notes, I realized that Betty,  _ my _ Betty who always seems to know what to say or do, would want  _ my  _ words and not those of another author. That was… intimidating.”

He paused to allow the chorus of giggles and sniffles a moment to subside.

“The truth is that there came a point where I just knew, Betts. I knew I couldn’t be without you or survive without you and I didn’t want to. I want your hand in mine, your side by my side, and my story written not alongside yours, but entwined with it. One byline for the rest of our lives.”

“Betty?” Charles prompted as she sniffled and wiped at her mascara, hoping it was still in place.

She cleared her throat a bit and took a breath to regain her composure.

“I don’t always get many things right the first time,” Betty said softly, her voice warbling a bit as she spoke. “You and I… we theorize and plan and then re-theorize and re-plan. But when you climbed through my window and kissed me, which seems like a lifetime ago, I felt like it was right… like I was waking up to something bigger and more important than anything I could dream. To this day, kissing you back may still be the only thing that I ever did right the first time and I’m so grateful for that.”

Betty gave his hands a squeeze and blew out another small breath.

“When you see me, you  _ truly _ see me; the imperfections, the worries, the fears, all of it, and you love me even more. I don’t know if everyone gets a chance to have someone love them the way you love me and I love you, but I sure hope they do. My life has been better since you’ve been in it, and our future together can't be anything but perfect because we get to do it together.”

When Betty finished, even Charles needed to wipe away a tear. Veronica dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and Alice could be heard bawling from her seat in the front row.

Gesturing to Archie, Charles stepped forward a bit more for the rest of the vows. Archie held out the first ring to Jughead and he gripped it in his hands, palms sweating.

“Okay Jughead,” Charles smiled. “It’s officially time now. Do you remember what to say?”

Jughead nodded and took Betty’s left hand in his own. As he spoke he slowly slipped the ring onto her finger.

“I, Jughead, take thee Betty to be my wife. To honor and cherish all the days of our lives.”

“Betty,” Charles continued, as Veronica held out the next ring towards her.

Taking it between her fingers, Betty shakily grabbed Jughead’s hand, placing his ring on his finger as she spoke as well.

“I, Betty, take thee Jughead to be my husband. To honor and cherish all the days of our lives.”

They grinned happily at each other, knowing the ceremony was moments from its end as Charles spoke once more.

“Well then, by the honor invested in me,” he cheered, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Whoops and hollers echoed all around as they both reached for each other at the same time, smiling as their lips met in their first kiss as husband and wife.

They pulled back giggling and jovial, and hand in hand strode down the aisle as Charles introduced them as Mr. & Mrs. Jones for the first time.

…..

**Wedding Reception**

**Five Seasons Ballroom**

The rest of the night passed as a whirlwind. Photos were taken outside in the gardens of the Five Seasons and grand entrances were made into their party room. Kevin had insisted they partake in a first dance, much to Jughead’s chagrin, but in return he promised Jughead to prompt as many tables as possible to clink their glasses all night to encourage kissing.

Though their guest list was small and intimate, the circular dance floor still seemed packed as people rose to watch their first dance. Neither of them noticed.

“Well, Mrs. Jones,” he smiled. “Did you ever think we’d make it to this moment all those years ago?”

Betty bit her lip and grinned, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as the song and crowd blended in behind them.

“Did I ever think you’d be in a suit with correctly worn suspenders, willingly dancing in a room full of people? Not a chance.”

Chuckling at her response, he took the opportunity to pull her closer and sang along softly, lips brushing her ear. Two weeks ago he may not have done the same, but that was before they almost didn’t make it here. He wasn’t taking a moment for granted.

_ “I will never stop trying. I'll never stop watching as you leave. I'll never stop losing my breath, every time I see you looking back at me. I'll never stop holding your hand. I'll never stop opening your door. I'll never stop choosing you babe. I'll never get used to you.” _

As their dance continued and glasses began to clink, Jughead tipped her chin up for a kiss or two, just to please the crowd of course, as the song ended.

_ “You still get my heart racing...I’ll never get used to you.” _

With a final peck they were joined on the dance floor by a hoard of guests and tons of applause, Veronica and Alice in complete tears and grabbing tissue after tissue from a dry-eyed, but very prepared, JB.

Betty had refused to partake in a garter toss or bouquet toss, wanting to keep things simple and the night moving along but accepted the cocktail hour preceding the full meal. The menu was delicious and Jughead kept snagging food off of everyone’s plate to try since he didn’t get a chance to even sit down for a moment.

After dinner, everyone chatted and danced until their feet hurt. Betty and Jughead cut their cake, deciding to play along and smash  _ just _ a bit on each other’s face, kissing the frosting away to the applause of the room. 

Though the night was wonderful, they hadn’t managed a moment alone and by the end of the night, they were itching for one. As their guests danced to the last few songs, they ducked out of the reception and headed upstairs, knowing that their guests knew them well enough to accept that the moment they were out of sight, they weren’t coming back.

As they stepped into the elevator, they heard Mrs. Andrew’s voice from down the hall.

“Veronica?” she asked. “Do you know where our bride and groom went? I wanted to say goodbye.”

Betty thought about turning around to go back before she heard Veronica reply, “Oh, Mrs. Andrews, you know them. They headed upstairs to make it  _ official,  _ if you know what I mean.”

“Nope,” Betty decided, climbing into the elevator instead.

Earlier in the day FP had taken her bags from the house and brought them to the hotel. The fact that she didn’t have to see anyone else for the rest of the night was a bit of a relief. When the door opened and they stood by their room, Jughead swiped the key card before lifting her up in his arms.

“Really, Jug?” she teased.

“There are some traditions I like,” he explained. “You know, kiss the bride, cake, getting to pick you up and carry you around…”

Once inside he placed her down and immediately dropped his lips to hers in a sweet, soft kiss.

“Are you sure you want to go by Jones?” he asked quietly. “Because you can hyphenate or do whatever you like…”

“Jug,” she smiled, soothing her hands down the sides of his face to hold his cheeks. “My mom goes by Smith now and Cooper was a made-up name. We’re family now, officially, and I want to be part of you. I think I’m going to like being Betty Jones just as much or more than I liked being Betty Cooper.”

He kissed her once more, this time with more urgency and intent. His hand held her jaw and his thumb played across the side of her cheek as the other dropped down her back to rest on the curve of her waist before dropping lower.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he groaned, breaking their kiss for a moment. “You, in that dress, and your.. I mean you… I want to be romantic here, but your ass looks so good in this dress.”

Tilting her head, she shot him a mischievous look before backing out of his embrace. His hands grabbed hers loosely to pull her back, but she continued to move backwards until their fingers could stretch no more and their hands dropped.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” she smiled. “As good as my ass looks, I still want to take this dress off if that’s alright with you.”

Turning around she motioned for him to unzip her. He trailed his lips downward, tracing the path of the zipper as he drew it down to the small of her back.

“Thank you,” she flirted, before grabbing her bag and shuffling into the bathroom.

While she changed and hung up her dress, Jughead made himself busy. He lit the candles he had stashed in the room the previous night and removed his tie, the jacket long since discarded downstairs in the ballroom. Unbuttoning the buttons on his dress shirt, he pulled off his shoes just as Betty re-emerged, glowing the candlelight clad in all sheer, white lace.

She smiled at him knowingly before sauntering forward.

“I figured if you liked my dress that you’d really like this,” she teased.

He was speechless.

They met at the foot of the bed and he drew a hand down her cheek slowly, taking it all in. Betty pushed his shirt off his shoulders and let it fall to the floor, before allowing her hands to explore the expanse of his chest.

As he gripped her hips to pull her forward, she noticed a slight hitch in his breath and tremble in his hands.

“Jug?” she queried softly with a quizzical arch of her brow.

“Sorry,” he said sincerely. “I guess I’m just nervous for it to be perfect. I only get one first time to make love with my wife.”

With a small pout and a half-smile, she pulled him in closer.

“Well,” she nodded, drawing his face down to her own for a quick kiss. “All of our other firsts were perfect, so I believe your first time with Mrs. Jones, will be nothing short of that as well.”

They spoke no more as their lips brushed back and forth gently, in no rush to deepen things at all. They took turns divesting each other of their clothing that remained before slowly exploring every inch of skin with lips and hands. When it all became too much, she urged him to sit up by the headboard and she climbed onto his lap, connecting them with one quick motion of her hips and resting her forehead against his own.

They both moved slowly as if there were no rush, no outside world, no endgame to be achieved. With their noses touching and their lips brushing the whole while, they rocked in small movements, not even a space for air between them.

As she fell over the edge, her hand dropped from his face to her shoulders, digging her nails in so tight she was bound to leave marks and his finger gripping her hips tightly as he joined her.

Sinking down flat, Jughead pulled Betty towards him before kissing her thoroughly one more time.

“I love you, Mrs. Jones,” he said, sporting a lopsided grin.

“And I love you Mr. Jones,” she replied, snuggling into his chest.

“So what now?” he teased, brushing her hair back from her eyes.

“We do that again and again and again,” she teased, dropping a kiss to his chest.

“Forever?” he replied, both a question and a statement.

“Forever,” she agreed, as their lips met anew.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have to credit @jandjsalmon. I had V giving her a Tiffany bracelet as something blue and she suggested it be from  
> jug instead. Infinitely better than my idea.


End file.
